The Boy Who Lived Next Door
by TheGharibian
Summary: She was lonely, confused and trying to fit in in yet another neighborhood, another new city, another new country. So, she took refugee in distracting herself with her new hobby: watching the boy next door. One particular afternoon however, she decided that watching is not enough.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry potter, nor any of the recognizable characters. I only own the OC and the plot.

* * *

It was different than where she came from.

It was the other side of the world-literally, as if it was a mirror reflection. People were white, pink or peachy, there was a glow to the sun that washed everything in what looked like a pale florescent light.

It was almost the beginning of July and she was still wearing a long sleeved sweatshirt to bed. In her homeland, the world was washed in the orange light of the sun, people were permanently tanned, so she didn't stand out like she did here. Here, people would gape at her, sometimes they complimented her for her "tan", or her dark, thick short her, or wide eyes. Once, one of her father's friends told her that she looked like a Bollywood star- that she was very "authentic". Well, she didn't really take it as a compliment, but she smiled anyway-as the people on Privet Drive would. Nod and smile and say polite words that you didn't really mean.

Most of the people on Privet Drive, anyway. She couldn't count the boy who worked at house number 4.

He wasn't there the first couple weeks after she moved into neighborhood, so she assumed that maybe this was his summer job. But he wouldn't leave in the evening either, which was quite bizarre, She assumed that maybe it was common here for teenagers to stay the night where they worked. She assumed that he lived in some poor neighborhood-given his haggard appearance-that was quite faraway. And so it would've been hard to travel back and forth to work every day, and that was why he stayed the night. And that had made sense to her until one particular afternoon.

She was feeling curious, not lonely-or at least that was what she told herself. He was washing Mr. Dursley's car and must have been in a faraway daydream, for when she strode directly to him and said a too-loud, rushed "Hi," he was startled. So startled that he directed the hose to her face and reached back to his waist as if searching for some weapon. They both stared to each other, the water still running and her face and t-shirt drenched.

He appeared to recover from the shock first "I- uh- sorry, I am really sorry-" He reached out for a dry cleaning cloth and was about to dry her shirt when he realized that it was a very bad idea, so he just handed it to her.

"Hi," she said again, smiling and drying her shirt. "I just wanted to say 'hi', sorry if I scared you," she said handing him the cloth again. He eyed her questionably though, as if expecting an explanation. He deserved one anyway, people didn't just say "HI" to people they didn't know, especially if those people on the receiving end of this "hi" were believed to go to St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys.

She noticed his confusion and continued, pushing a wet lock of her hair nervously behind her ear "I'm kind of new here- I have no friends-or um-well I do have friends, but they're kind of stiff and uptight" He raised an eyebrow and smiled, apparently amused.

"My father is a diplomat," she blurted out. "So we move a lot - we live here now, actually," she said pointing with her thumb to the white and airy house across the street "...and this is how I make friends," she said finally.

He just stood there, shocked maybe- well probably. He made a slight move that she thought, for a moment, meant that he was going to continue cleaning the car and ignore her, but then he suddenly extended a hand, a red knuckled bony hand, and smiled to her.

"Harry," he said.

She took his hand and was about to introduce herself when suddenly the shrill voice of Mrs. Dursely came from the house with a high pitched "BOOOY!"

Startled, she dropped his hand.

He closed his eyes briefly in what she thought was an attempt to contain his anger, then started almost lazily collecting the cleaning supplies. He yelled back "Coming Aunt Petunia," and gave her a hurried glance of farewell.

That was the day she figured out that he most likely didn't just "work" there. And that idea made her quite uncomfortable.

* * *

The world somehow became a muffled blur of colors and voices.

It is not that he didn't care anymore, he didn't have this luxury either, but maybe he was just tired, exhausted actually. Maybe his mind was crowded enough that there was no place left in it to register his surroundings, everything seemed trivial, the children playing in the park, the annoying voices of his sad excuse of a family, his friends' long letters, his short replies, everything was trivial as if he wasn't living among the living anymore, rather floating above them.

He lost Sirius, as he tend to loose everyone; he has a pending death sentence over his head, and it is not only his head on stake but thousands of innocent people lives as well, so sulking around or giving up were not an option.

Everything had to pale in significance, even that loneliness that tend to claw his insides at night.

He sat on the damp grass in his aunt's perfect garden, leaning with his back to her stone flower bed, feeling the gentle morning breeze on his face, trying to breathe.

There were days when he'd finish his chores and go straight to bed using his exhaustion as a sleeping medication. Other days he'd wonder near the house, maybe visit the nearby park, and watch how life went on oblivious to the upcoming storm-oblivious to his mess of a life. He'd sometimes catch himself smiling to a child or responding to a friendly dog, and he wouldn't leave except when he feels exhausted enough to sleep the moment his body touches the bed.

And there were some days- like that day, when he fails to sleep all night, so he'd wait until the first rays of dawn changes the lonely darkness of the night to a friendlier blue, while he just sat there, watching the sky, breathing in the cold morning breeze, letting the dew soothe his insides- it felt almost hopeful.

He was lost in his thoughts when he heard a soft gasp and a thud somewhere out of the boundaries of the garden, near the pavement maybe. He considered ignoring it but being who he is, he just couldn't. So he quietly rose, and walked to where he thought the sound had come from, and near the pavement he found someone in the shadows- a young lady, somewhere between getting up and sitting on the hard stone as if in slow motion. He figured out the reason of that awkward position for when she tried to rise again, she fell back to the sitting position, releasing an annoyed "huff".

In three wide steps, in a slow run, he reached her and offered a hand "Here," he said startling her. He didn't have to see her face so he could figure out who she was, that short thick black hair was too familiar.

She used his hand to stand a bit straighter, and busied herself with inspecting the damage, muttering an embarrassed "Thanks," and there came the unavoidable awkward silence.

Then, seeing that he was still there, obviously inspecting her for damage, brain damage maybe, since grown-ups don't just trip over the pavement like six year olds, she added hastily "I didn't see that bump over there" pointing to the uneven, evil part stone that caused all the trouble.

"Oh. She is just welcoming you- all the kids here had their knees signed by her" he said smiling somehow kindly, like a person would smile for a child "- I myself have several signatures from her".

She smiled at that, inspecting -now more seriously- her injuries. "well that was a warm welcome- literally" she said raising her scrapped palm for emphasis, her jogging pants were also torn, revealing her bloody, scrapped knees.

Harry was about to invite her in to wash her hands and knees, then he quickly realized how wrong that may go; after all he can't invite people to a house that is not his. He wondered for a brief moment if he will ever have a home of his own, or live to that day anyway.

He decided to focus on more pressing issues for the moment "you can use the garden hose to wash your hand, it will help" he said pointing to his aunt's garden, then added as an afterthought when his own words sounded a bit rude to him " I am sorry- my aunt doesn't really appreciate visitors".

She wasn't exactly taken aback by his words, but she still felt uncomfortable "It is fine, my place is not that far," she said trying to end the whole awkward situation "Thank you".

She was about to limp her way back home when he said "sorry for the other day as well- you didn't get to introduce yourself", He surprised himself by that, he wasn't particularly friendly but somehow felt guilty for not inviting her in, and a small talk wouldn't hurt really-or so he thought.

"Nada" she said, limping a step back and extending her hand. She winced a bit when he returned the hand shake, which didn't go unnoticed by him "Well, Nada you really don't look fine".

She paused for a moment then limped one step down the pavement and sat on the stone floor "Well, Harry that was a good observation".

He looked down at her and chuckled a little, secretly glad about the falling formality "I will be back in a minute" he said walking hurriedly towards the house.

She saw him leaving and couldn't help to wonder what his story was, she always felt guilty when she thought about people that way as she felt like it invaded their privacy, but she couldn't deny either that there was definitely a story behind that Harry; he apparently lives here, has been living here as a child, with an aunt who didn't seem really nice- at least to him, his appearance was so not private drive, but the way he talked wasn't vulgar or rude either, and there was the fact that he wasn't there the first couple of weeks she came, so where was he?

He thankfully interrupted her prying thoughts as he came back with what looked like a napkin in his hand-it was indeed a napkin full of ice.

"Here," he said sitting beside her "this will help numb it a bit". She took the napkin from him with a genuine "thanks" and held it to one knee, and they fell in that awkward silence once more.

"So, Nada?" He said, breaking the silence "is that short for something?"

 _apparently not so good in starting a conversation_ , she though a bit amused. In fact moving from one country to another, having to introduce herself all the time to strangers that mostly looked at her as an interesting display from the natural history museum, she was familiar with such questions that they almost became less annoying, but still.

"No, just Nada," she said sporting her privet drive smile.

He looked at her for a moment, somewhere between embarrassed and guilty.

Well, don't be too hard on him, he is not them, she scolded herself mentally

"It means the morning dew, quite common actually" she said lightly, focusing her attention on the napkin she was holding now to her elbow.

For a fraction of a second, a ghost of recognition passed on his features, as if the name had rang a bell, as if the moment that he knew what it means- it made sense, and then he smiled, his eyes however were looking to a faraway place.

* * *

Author's Note: This is my first attempt to write fanfiction, so any advice will be very welcomed.

This will be a short story (15 chapters max of which 8 are already written and the rest panned) so you can expect relatively short intervals between updates.

I also need to say that English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes, either grammatical or "cultural" please let me know.

and relevant to the previous note: I am in a great need of a beta.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: If you are one of the very first followers of this story, please check the AN added at the end of chapter1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the recognizable characters

* * *

Chapter 2

Nanna used to say that everyone gets something from their names, she'd touch her cheeks softly and say that she looks like a summer rose, with beautiful beads of pearly dew. Nanna was too nice of course, but she liked the way she'd caress her cheeks and stroke her hair, she'd always surrender to sleep resting her head on Nanna's lap.

God, she missed her.

Without her, everything was duller and sadder and lonelier, especially breakfasts, Nanna always gave special care to breakfasts she used to say "two thirds of the day's joy are in a good breakfast"  
"and the third?" Nada would ask knowing the answer  
"to have a nice breakfast with someone you love" she'd say

Now, she'd wake up early, and have her breakfast alone, sometimes her dad would sit at the table with her but since he'd be reading the paper or engaged on the phone with another VIP, she could hardly count this less "alone".

He'd kiss her goodbye though, leaving her a waft of tobacco, expensive perfume, and loneliness.

She never doubted that he loved her, he'd go mad whenever she's hurt, got a flue, got depressed, or if she cried. Oh he'd get so mad if he saw her tears- that's why she didn't cry anymore. That is how he cared for her, and she understood that. However, sometimes he went too far.

That morning was one of those times.

It was a couple of hours to mid-day when she came back home, with her torn pants and bloody palms. She felt better than how she looked however. It had been a while since she talked to someone who'd listen; someone she'd like to listen to. It was a small talk, but not the boring, fake type of small talk, it was rather relaxing.

She talked fondly about her homeland, and bitterly about how she has to move a lot that she barely lived in her home country. She told him about the places she has been to, and he was visibly impressed to know that she spoke five languages fluently.

He didn't talk about himself much, but she could know some bits and pieces from his comments. He was three months younger than her, he went to a boarding school, and never been out of the country, he'd love to he said, but it wasn't likely. She wanted to ask why, but didn't.

She asked him nothing, and intended to keep it that way as she didn't want to lose the only friend -or potential friend- she was about to have. That, of course, was before her father ruined everything.

She was about to enter her room when he saw her, the first thing his eyes landed on were her torn clothes, and his eyes went wider as they worked their way up.

"What happened?" He whispered in utter shock

she raised her palms as a gesture to calm him down "I am okay," she said slowly and calmly as if she was taming an angry wolf. That was a very bad idea though, bringing her scrapped palms in full view.

"Who did this to you?" He said, now shouting.

"Daddy- Daddy calm down-I just tripped" she said trying to contain his anger "it happens, not a big deal- no one did anything to me," she got closer now looking him straight in the eyes "Nobody hurt me, look at me, I am fine," at this she gently touched his elbow in what she hoped to be a reassuring gesture, and he seemed to relax a bit.

He went silent for a moment then said, more calmly "come on, you need to see a doctor," at this, she almost laughed-but she knew better not to.

"Why don't you call the ambulance as well?" She said jokingly "I am fine trust me- besides I got it tended to right after it happened," later that day she regretted those words.

"What-how..?" He said, frowning in confusion

"A boy helped me-he got me a some ice and I put it on my knees," she said with a shrug "I will apply some antibiotics on it and It will be fine" she mused, inspecting her elbow which was a bit injured as well.

"A boy?" He repeated, as if she said nothing afterwards.

"Come on Dad- the boy who always works on the Dursley's garden?" she said then realized that her Dad wouldn't ever notice him, God he barely noticed her.

He paused for a moment and touched his pockets making sure that he didn't forget his wallet as usual, then said with a sigh "I am late- should go now" she was relieved by that, but almost choked on her own breath "I should go thank him first though".

* * *

Harry felt sleepy by the time Nada left, but decided to work on the garden first so that his aunt won't go banging on his door to wake him up from a really needed sleep.

It was nice talking to her, talking at all actually.

The time he spent on privet drive rarely involved talking, or more precisely civilized conversations with other human beings. He had no one to talk to except Hedwig which he thought was quite pathetic. Other conversations only involved snapping and nasty looks, either directed to him or by him.

And Nada was so easy to talk to, she didn't pry, she didn't ask any questions, and she always had something to say about anything, not in a know it all manner like Hermione might be sometimes, but in an interesting manner that kept the conversation flowing nicely, not too personal, and not too shallow.

He was dragged out of his thoughts when a tall, very well dressed man called for him "Hey- son," raising one hand like one would for a waiter.

Harry approached the man carefully, there was something intimidating about him inspite of his formal smile, or maybe because of it. This and his well-tailored grey suite, the air of authority that he had about him, and his piercing wide eyes- he looked familiar as well.

"Sir?" Harry began tentatively

"I am very grateful for what you did with my daughter this morning" he said extending a hand to harry.

Harry wiped his muddy hand on his T-shirt quickly and shook the man's hand, confusion etched on his face "what I did sir?-your daughter?"

"She was injured this morning and I was informed that you kindly provided your assistance" the man explained, and understanding washed over harry despite the exaggerated vocabulary.

"Oh," he now noticed that Nada is approaching them, a sincere apologetic look on her face. "That wasn't a big deal-sir," he looked from him to her.

"It is- for me" the man said, putting his hand in his inside pocket. "Here," he said, offering a wide eyed Harry a couple of notes "That's a humble thanks from us"

Harry looked from the father to his daughter several times, leaving the man's hand hanging in midair.

Growing impatient the man thrusted the notes in his hand "Take them," he said "Get your family something nice on your way home- I appreciate hard working lads like you" he patted him on the shoulder.

Nada opened her mouth and closed it immediately, nothing could fix that.

* * *

Harry didn't know what to feel, but whatever he felt could not by any means pass as indifference.

The spray of cold water running on his head and back was nothing compared to that man's words. He was used to the disapproving looks he received from the inhabitants of privet drive, being looked down at, or even humiliated. It is not that it wasn't annoying, but it wasn't new either. In fact, the man's words sounded funny until he reached the part of "buy something on your way home"

He thought that he was some kind of servant to the Dursleys.

In fact, he couldn't blame him- it is not like he was sun bathing in the garden and the man drew irrational assumptions. He was in dirty clothes and his hands were covered in mud, and he was doing the gardening.

He was actually angry that he was angry; he stopped caring what people think long time ago, he shouldn't even care given the current context. But deep down, he knew that he didn't care what anybody thought of him, but what that man thought- and all what it signified, brought some questions he stopped asking long ago back to the surface.

He stopped wondering why he'd sleep in the cupboard under the stairs while his cousin had two bedrooms long ago, why he'd get an old sock for his birthday while his cousin got 37 presents, why he'd cook breakfast and never eat until his family are done, he'd eat alone like he'd do anything, alone, why he wouldn't eat any meal without being reminded that the food on his plate a grant that he should be thankful for.

He stopped asking long ago, why he was never included in a family photo, and very reluctantly in a family outing, why he never received a nice word from them, not them- her. He could understand why his uncle would hate him, and Duddly, was..well, Duddly, but why did she hate him that much? He could never understand that.

It broke his heart as a kid.

But he was not a kid anymore, he shouldn't have felt what he felt.

He loathed himself for that very small part of him, that still wanted to be loved and cared for " _grow up harry_ " he thought " _you are almost sixteen_ ".

He didn't need them, he never did. He had his friends, and- his friends were more than enough. He was fine, he told himself, that he was absolutely fine.

He sat on the shower floor, hugging his legs to his chest, letting the cold water drum on his head and back, trying to contain the painful emptiness in his chest. He was fine.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but he was sure that it was long enough that his thoughts drifted to Sirius and from Sirius to the prophecy and from the prophecy all the way to Quiditch, by the time he stepped out of the shower he had successfully stuffed that morning incident in the back of his head.

He poked his head out of the bathroom before walking on tip-toes towards his room, and was about to enter his room when he was stopped by a too familiar shriek coming from across the hall

"Now what," he muttered

"You-you used one of our towels" she said, looking in disgust at the towel wrapped around his waist.

He looked at her then to the towel, sure enough it was one of their towels. Actually the shower was a kind of an on the spot decision, so he just grabbed any towel.

"What? Do you want it now?" He said with a bored voice Pretending to unwrap it.

Her eyes went too wide for even humanly possible and she ran down stairs muttering something about freaks and filthy towels.

Satisfied that his aunt was horrified enough, he entered the room slamming the door behind him. And his day went as normal as a Harry Potter day could possibly go.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: For those who were wondering about Nada's story, you will get some answers in this chapter.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 3

His image, standing there, his hand hanging in midair with the money as if not sure what to do with it, his eyes wondering from her to her dad, his brows knitted in confusion, his mouth open then closed quickly in lack of words, his image- was burnt in the insides of her eyelids.

Several days have passed, and she'd peek every now and then towards the Dursley's front lawn in her morning walks, sometimes her evening walks, and sometimes she'd just walk by pretending to "have a walk" hoping that she'd see him, hoping she could explain-but he just seemed to disappear.

It is true, she thought, that sometimes we have to stop searching for things to find them, they eventually find us, for she wasn't really thinking about the boy next door, when she sat alone in the play park near her house.

She sat there on a bench in her short silky dress, smoking a cigarette and gazing pensively at the empty park. Looking completely out of place, nothing she's not used to though. She was always out of place.

"You didn't look like the smoking type" a voice said from behind.

She didn't have the chance to panic as the owner of the voice quickly appeared in view. Harry.

"You didn't look like the lecturer type" she said, not looking at him.

He continued however as if she said nothing "such a pity- to waste a lovely summer evening in a playing park" he sat next to her "shouldn't you be in some kind of a ball or something?", he said eyeing her dress.

"Fine!" She said standing up "apparently this is your little hiding place- I get it- it is taken," she was about to leave when he held her wrist.

"It's ok- you look like you need a little hiding place for the night"

She didn't have the energy to leave, so she just sat again on the bench, inhaling a long breath from her cigarette.

They sat in silence for a long moment.

"I am not the lecturer type" he said, taking the cigarette from her now limp hand and putting it between his own lips, he inhaled.

To her surprise, he didn't go into a coughing fit like she did the first time she nicked a cigarette from her father, he merely grimaced "that was horrible- it doesn't even worth it"

"I am sorry about the other day" she said dejectedly.

Something in his face has changed slightly, his mask of indifference has almost slipped "It's okay," he said "I have seen much worse, trust me".

Then again silence.

"May I ask you something?" She said tentevley.

 _No_ , he thought, _please no_ , "sure," he said nonchalantly.

"Why didn't you tell my father, that you didn't work there?"

He wasn't expecting that, so he merely shrugged "I don't know," he said "I was taken by surprise I guess"

" I know that I may sound biased, but he didn't mean to offend you at all," she said surprising herself despite what she just heard, she was still defending him "he was genuinely thankful".

"With all due respect, but I didn't save you from falling off a cliff" he said throwing the now dead cigarette on the ground and squashing it with his foot.

She looked at him as if in conflict to say something, when she finally spoke her voice was near a whisper "my mom- she fell off a cliff" she swallowed and continued "it was an accident, supposedly, she lost control on her car- and .." she didn't continue.

Harry was stunned in to silence

" ever since, he became paranoid- too protective - too suffocating" she mused, as if talking to herself "that's why for him, it meant a lot- I know it doesn't make any sense.." she said finally her voice a bit louder

"I am sorry," he said interrupting her.

"It's okay," she said, "It happened years ago- and believe me or not sometimes I feel proud of her," she said quickly answering the confusion etched on his face "it wasn't an accident"

"wasn't it?" He replied tonelessly just to keep the conversation flowing.

"No," she said, pausing for a second then continued with a sigh "long story short, she was a journalist- she didn't mind her own business for a living," she then laughed bitterly " -she believed that knowledge was a responsibility- and "enlightening the public" was her duty. But she knew too much, some people didn't like that, so.."

Harry nodded in understanding, sparing her from going further in a story he knew too well how it could end.

"The sad part is, that "public" believed latter on that she was drunk driving" she said, bending to take off her strappy sandals "the less decent part of the public believed that she killed herself" she said kicking her sandals away, not meeting his eyes "Dad once told me that the people deserved corruption, manipulation, ignorance," she paused and continued in a barely audible sound "that she died in vain"

Harry gazed thoughtfully to the ground, touching subconsciously the scars on the back of his hand- he knew all too well what she was talking about.

"Do you believe so? - that it was in vain I mean," he asked, not moving his eyes away from the ground.

"No," she said with a louder, defiant voice "she didn't die in a Colosseum seeking the cheering of the crowds- she didn't even want to die, nobody in their right mind would want to die, it is just- she chose to do what is right over what is easy" she paused then continued looking at him "the public, the people, the crowds will always be waiting for a hero- a savior, to do the right thing for them, while they slept and worked and made love to their wives," she said smiling bitterly " It was never about the number of supporters harry- they come and go- what is right though, what is just and ethical- doesn't change, she did die for that, and in my opinion she won, they had to kill her to get rid of her for God's sake !-because they knew, they knew altogether that she wouldn't give in" she paused for a moment to compose herself, then added more calmly "I am proud of her choices, I am proud that she chose.."

"What is right, over what is easy" he said more to himself.

She nodded

"Were they caught? " He asked, and at this she laughed.

"they rule a country Harry, those people don't _get caught_ " she said after composing herself " I know we'd like to believe that in the battle of good and evil, the good always wins- but this is rarely the case in real life"

By that, he felt shivers down his spine. It was true, Cedric was good and that wasn't enough for him to win, Serius was good, his parents were good, and it wasn't ever enough. His heart ached at the idea, it wasn't fair but it was true. He knew that this applies to him too, logically speaking he is not enough, logically speaking he doesn't stand a chance, but he couldn't bring himself to lose hope. He knew that he doesn't have this luxury, and if he dies, when he dies, he has to go down fighting. Not because he wants to be noble or brave, but because it is the right thing to do.

"Nice hiding place," she said changing the subject, and dragging Harry from his thoughts.

He smiled at that "well, it worked out well for me since- well since forever" then continued looking around "when I was little, I'd stay after all the parents and children leave, and the gates are closed. Then I'd pretend that the whole park is my kingdom" he snorted "I would play with all the swings, all the slides- not the see-saw though it needed a partner" she laughed at that "No one would bother me, no concerned parents, no disapproved looks, just me and my kingdom- I'd get punished of course when I get home, but it was always worth it"

She felt a shiver, that has nothing to do with the weather.

"You can play with the see-saw now," she said getting up "you have a partner"

She padded to the seesaw and sat awkwardly on it, he just looked at her with disbelief "What?" She said "are you coming or what"

He barked with laughter "you are insane," getting to the other end of the see-saw, she rised a bit to let it go lower for him to sit on it.

And they started moving, up and down.

"How long have you been living here" he asked, pushing the ground with his feet.

"six long weeks," she said, raising her feet completely off the ground and lying them in front of her on the extended metal rode, tilting her head slightly backwards "and you?"

"15 long years" he said, pushing the ground again

"You were born here?" She said, more focused now.

"No," he said pushing the ground harder this time "My parents -died when I was one, I have been living with my aunt since then"

She was looking up at him, hanging in midair, apparently expecting her to make her move, both with the see-saw and the conversation. She lifted her weight slightly moving them in to a more balanced position, looked him in the eyes and genuinely said "I am sorry", he merely shrugged.

They sat idly, balanced for a moment.

"Bring me down," she said quite suddenly.

Harry didn't even ask, he just lifted his weight a bit to get her down, she got up immediately sending him with a loud bang back to the ground.

"Ow, that hurt!" He shouted in protest.

She just giggled, and ran towards the swings, leeping on one of them, the force of the sudden contact with the swing sent it too high, but she masterfully coiled her arms around the chains, bending her knees slightly forward to keep the swing moving.

For a moment, Harry just stared at her in awe as if he was watching a magical creature, her full graceful figure moving with the swing, sending her flowing dress dangerously up her thigh, the street light creating an eerie glow around, and through her silk Champaign dress.

"Can you do this?" She giggled, bringing him back to his senses.

He grinned "watch me!" He copied her but with a greater force, sending his swing even higher than hers, for a moment he could have sworn that some of his magic was involved, because he felt like he was literally flying.

They were flying, ecstatic, the air around them vibrated with their laughs and shouts, with raw happiness that their young hearts longed for, as if there was no ounce of injustice in the world.

"HEY!" a voice came from a distance, an old security guard striding into view.

Harry jumped immediately off his swing, Nada copied him but with a rougher landing. He grabbed her hand and guiding her to the gate. She jumped unfeminenly over the gate and he followed, and they ran as fast their feet could carry them, not exerting any effort in controlling their laughter.

"I guess we lost him," she panted slowing down.

Harry slowed down his pace as well "That old fool- I didn't know that he was still alive"

She laughed at that, then stopped abruptly "Ouch!-wait" she said "I guess I stepped on something"

He looked down at her feet, and was stunned to realize that she has been running bare footed.

"Here," he said stepping out of his trainers without even bending over to un-tie them, it was her turn to be stunned.

"What?" He said, "at least I have some socks on" she snorted at that.

She hesitated for a moment then stepped in to them "I don't know if it the culture differences, but last time I checked, boys took off their jackets for girls, not their shoes"

Harry blushed a little, scratching the back of his head, apparently looking for some kind of retort.

Nada was distracted however, as her eyes fell on a long white scar that started nearly from his wrist and ended at the crook of his elbow. He must have noticed where her eyes had averted for he quickly lowered his hand.

"So do you like it here?" He said, avoiding eye contact, in an attempt to distract her from a very legitimate question, he didn't know that she wouldn't ask anyway.

"It's quiet," she said with a shrug "good for the walks- but pretty boring, better than London however"

"I like London," he said thinking about The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon's Alley, 12 Grimauld place, London was the closest he could be to the magical world.

"I will go to school there, so I will have to like it anyway," she said with a sigh.

They walked in silence for a moment, then she started talking again.

"Have you ever felt like a pawn, on a chess board? - that everyone has a say in where you should be, what you should do, even what you should feel-except you?"

"Yeah," he said with a sigh.

She paused for a moment, running her fingers through her hair in frustration "nobody even tries to understand- like walk a couple of steps in my shoes for God's sake!"

"Well, I won't even wish that on anybody" he said pensively, looking to the ground lost in his thoughts.

Then he noticed her feet, in his trainers- she seemed to notice them too for they both barked with laughter at the same time.

He noticed that she had a quirky, boisterous way of laughing.

"Pun not intended," he said finally with the remains of laughter in his voice.

"Good one though," she said stepping out from his trainers "Thank you"

"What? You can still walk in them, they are not that bad, are they?"

"Well, they are definitely not- but I don't need them anymore" she pointed to the house they stood before "That's me"

She could have sworn that a ghost of disappointment has crossed his face.

"Well, If you need any little hiding place- you know where to go"

"I will bear that in mind,"

"Good night then," he said awkwardly

"Good night" she smiled "see you around," she said more loudly, as an afterthought.

He reluctantly started to walk away when she called for him.

"Hey Harry! - thank you," she wasn't thanking him for the trainers, and she had the impression that he understood that.

He smiled, that genuine smile of his, like one would smile for a child "No problem," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking away.

* * *

"Why did you leave your shoes on the front door?" Her father asked, he was on his way out when he stopped apparently glad to find something to talk with her about.

She just gazed at him in confusion, then strode to the front door sending him the nastiest looks she could manage, sure enough her strappy sandals were placed neatly on the front door's mat.

"I took them off, the heels were killing me" she told him distractingly.

He tentevily touched her shoulder, when she didn't protest he pulled her in his embrace and kissed her forehead, eventually she relaxed.

"Have a blessed day," she spoke finally, releasing herself from his embrace, he didn't want to push his luck- so he just patted her back, smiled and left.

When she lifted the sandals in her way in, she found a piece of folded thick yellowish paper under them. Confused, she unfolded it- and smiled at the squarry hand writing and -was that real ink, she wondered.

"I tried to walk a couple of steps in them, but failed miserably. The trick was in the size off course not the heels.

H. "


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

He wasn't sure when the last time he was that happy was, but he didn't even care to remember. He was feeling at peace, calm, content, and that was more than enough.

He would write his friends longer letters, sleep deeper, smile occasionally, live less halfheartedly, and that was only because of her, Nada, the soothing morning dew.

He wasn't sure how he liked her, but he did like her company; he liked her conversations, and the times they'd spent silently watching the sun set over privet drive from the roof that abandoned shop.

They'd listen to mix tapes on her walkman, eat cookies that she baked, she'd smoke and he'd pretend that he was not bothered by it, and they'd sneak to the park after the sun sets to play with the see-saw. That was when he once felt that he didn't really know how he liked her. She was wearing a very short pair of shorts and a checkered shirt that was tied in a knot around her waist bringing to his attention a very narrow waist, and those quite good thighs.

But away from her quite good thighs, and that dimple that appear on one cheek when she smiles, and her wide hazel eyes, what he liked most about her that she didn't ask any questions. She notices things, she certainly does, but it was like she had some oath no to ask.

Sometimes he thought that maybe, maybe if she asked, he would want to talk to her, because he knew that she would listen.

He couldn't off course, there are worlds between them, literally. Even the parts that didn't include magic or prophecies or dark lords, even the parts that only involved loneliness and sadness and a poor home life, because those parts were also another world to her.

She is a kind person, she'd listen, and she'd be sympathetic, in his lowest moments he'd need someone like that. However, she wouldn't understand, and she might pity him, and he can't stand pity, and he'd lose her if she pitied him, and he didn't want to lose her.

It was one particular Sunday morning when all these thoughts were swirling inside his head while he was laying the table for breakfast. He hated Sundays with a passion, for his uncle would stay longer at the breakfast table ordering him around, his aunt would have him all day in the kitchen to help with her "Sunday dinner", and most often they'd have guests and he would have to spend the rest of the day in his bedroom.

That particular Sunday was different, a bad kind of different.

Later on, he couldn't ever remember what happened clearly, all what he remembered was his uncle roaring at him, a sharp pain on his cheek, the sickly contact of his head and the sharp edge of the kitchen table, and the deadly silence of the kitchen.

* * *

Petunia Dursley stood in the middle of her kitchen in shock, staring with wide eyes at her nephew's still form.

She haven't seen her husband that shocked ever in her life, she believed that he didn't intend for the blow to be that hard, she also believed that he expected the boy to move away quickly as he always did, for she was also expecting the same.

The boy has been particularly annoying that morning, slow and unresponsive. He didn't answer her when she talked to him, twice. And when Vernon asked him for a coffee refill, more than three times, he ignored him, he intentionally had it coming, she thought, maybe even he didn't move away on purpose to get Vernon in trouble.

She was sort of relieved when the boy moved a little, then moved in a sitting position touching the side of his head. But she was horrified when she saw the bright red colour covering his hand. At this point her husband stormed out of the kitchen. A moment later she heard the front door being slammed shut.

She felt uncomfortable being left with the boy alone, especially that he didn't move from the floor, and that he didn't say anything at all. He just looked at her in the eyes, and she could have sworn that he didn't even blink for a whole minute.

Eventually, he used the chair for support to get up. Then used the table for support to get to the sink. He washed his hands, then leaned forward trying to wash the injured part of his head. His hands slipped twice from the edge of the sink, but he managed to support himself as long as he thought was necessary. He then scanned his surroundings with his eyes in search for something, then his eyes stopped on a clean kitchen towel. He moved, an inch to reach for it, grabbed it, and held it in a ball to the side of his head, using the table again for support to get to a chair.

Petunia Dursley stood there, watching her nephew contaminating her neat kitchen towel with blood, wandering which cleaning supplies should she use to get rid of it.

It was almost midnight and the bleeding wasn't stopping, she started to panic.

She could hear the bathroom door open and shut every couple of minutes, when she finally got out of her bedroom to inspect it, she found the boy leaning on his forearms with his head bowed on the washing basin, a bloody towel on the floor beside his feet.

She rushed back to her bedroom waking her husband, "Vernon..Vernon the boy needs to go to the hospital"

He merely stirred and said not bothering to open his eyes " I am not paying for hospitals and doctors"

"But what if.."

"They will ask questions Petunia" he said sternly, more awake, and that shut her up for a moment

She tried to reason with him more calmly "if something happened to him, more questions will be asked..from _everyone_ " she looked at him meaningfully stressing on the last word, and that moved him from bed.

He started getting dressed and they fell in stressful silence when she finally got up "I am going to let him know- to get himself presentable"

"Let him know what? I am not taking him anywhere"

"But-"

"I won't let anyone ask me questions because of that ungrateful brat- I know someone who can help" he said while finally putting on a jacket " He owes me anyway" by that he left the room, and a moment later she heard the front door being closed.

* * *

It was after midnight when she finally heard the keys working their way on the front door's lock, her husband appeared with a smug look on his face on the doorway, behind him a young man in scrubs. He looked somewhere between angry and nervous, but didn't say anything.

"honey, bring the boy down to the kitchen" Vernon said, using his guest formal tone "we don't want to keep _the doctor_ for too long or his patients would miss him"

Petunia teared her eyes away from the suspicious looking Doctor and hurried upstairs to get her nephew, when she reached the boy's room she found it empty, she turned automatically to the bathroom where she found him holding the same bloody towel to his head.

"Come downstairs, Vernon brought someone to look at it" she said coldly, but he didn't move.

"You- you should be grateful!"

"Yes I should go thank him for splitting my head open" he said with a low but defiant voice.  
His hand almost lost its grip on the basin, but he was still managing to stand straight. A calculating look had passed over his features before he finally moved albeit reluctantly.

* * *

The silence following the buzzing sound of the shaver was heavy but somehow relieving. The sound of the machine made her too uncomfortable, especially when she pictured how her kitchen floor will look like when the supposed doctor is done.

He told them that the boy will need stitches, that he can do it here but without anesthetic, and that he needs a shaver to shave the part of the boy's head where the stitches are needed. She was thankful that Duddly was away at Piers's summer house this week as she could imagine vividly the tantrum he'd throw if he knew that they used his electric shaver. She took a mental note to replace it with a new shaver, and dispose with this one once the Doctor is done with it, despite the fact that her son rarely uses it.

The silence became heavier as the minutes passed, she assumed that the doctor started working on the wound but she didn't hear a sound from the boy. She looked at Vernon questionably but he was just flipping through some old drillers' catalogue. From the looks of it, she knew that he was ignoring her on purpose; she couldn't blame him however.

She walked carefully back to the kitchen to inspect was going on, however, she couldn't bring her legs to move further when she heard the young Doctor muttering to her nephew.

"Come on mate, one more time" he said, "Almost there"

She gathered her courage and strode into the kitchen, but was stopped in the doorway transfixed for a fraction of a moment by the scene before her. The boy's eyes were tightly shut, his jaw was clenched as he held on to the edge of the table, his knuckles white by the strength of his grip.

That wasn't the source of her shock though, the now exposed wound was both the source of her shock and disgust. The boy will have to stay at home until his hair grows back enough to cover the wound, the neighbors can't by any means see this. She was relived however, that the kitchen's floor was not as dirty as she has imagined it would be.

There were other thoughts as well that crossed her mind, thoughts that involved Dudley sitting instead of her nephew on that kitchen's chair. She flinched at the idea as the boy flinched in pain. Dudley won't be that silent, she thought. Dudley won't ever have to be on that chair, she decided to comfort herself, and brush the bad thoughts away.

She was startled however when the boy's eyes flung open, he looked her in the eyes without blinking, like he did in the morning, this time she didn't look away.

"Leave," he said between his gritted teeth still looking her in the eyes. When she didn't move he repeated it again looking away, she could have sworn that she saw a glint of a tear in his eyes. She left.

That night she couldn't sleep. later on she'd tell herself that it was the stressful long day, but deep down she knew that what kept her awake was her sister lily, her son, and thoughts about Dudley sitting on that chair.

She wouldn't admit to herself ever that she felt a pinch of sympathy to the boy.

* * *

He was so mad at himself, so mad that he didn't mind the constant throbbing in his head, the nausea, and the pain. He was hurt, and he was so mad that he was hurt.

When his aunt entered the kitchen there was that stupid part of him that thought that she was concerned. The same stupid part that thought the same thing in the morning, when he saw the blood covering his hand.

He searched her eyes for any sign of sympathy, any sign of emotion, of remorse, but all what he saw was loath and disgust. She looked at him as if she was looking at a wounded animal.

He was distracted by the urgency of the situation in the morning, but this time he couldn't stand looking at her; he couldn't stand that she saw him that weak, and did nothing. He couldn't stand that she saw him that weak at all.

He felt stripped of his dignity, he felt vulnerable, and he felt naked. Not because of the pain or the wound or the needle that was being stuck in his head, but because he wanted her to care. After all this time he still wanted her to care, but she didn't and it hurt.

Eventually he drifted to sleep, not bothering to change his clothes or to get under the covers. He just curled on himself, hands between his knees and thoughts about his aunts fading away leaving a bitter aftertaste that shadowed the constant throbbing in his head.


	5. Chapter 5

Nanna told her that scars carry the memories that caused them, if we ask about scars we revive the memories again, we open the wounds again, and we hurt even if we don't mean hurting. Nanna told her that sometimes we hurt in order to heal, that the wounds sting worst when they are healing or being cleaned; Nanna told her never to try to heal or clean a wound when the wounded is not ready. Nanna teached her to never ask about scars; to wait patiently for answers.

She missed her so much, she wished that she could talk to her about Harry, the boy who's full of scars.

He was like a puzzle, whenever she solved a part of it, it got more complicated, more intriguing and she got more confused. Sometimes he'd look so old, his green eyes would go unfocused and he'd go quiet, gradually quiet, until he sighs. Those kind of sighs that usually end an inner battle or a sad memory. She wished that she could talk about it with him, lift his burden, or even acknowledge it. But nanna teached her never to ask.

Therefore, she'd just be there, bake him cookies, talk with him, walk with him, share with him. It felt good that she could take care of someone, to busy herself with helping another soul to bear with the cruelty of life. It gave her a sense of proactivity and purpose, and it felt almost peaceful.

It had been a while since she saw him, and a part of her started to worry, another part felt lonely and there was that tiny part that was angry, at him and at herself, because he just disappeared and she missed him. She barely knew him, she shouldn't miss him.

She focused on the part that worried ignoring that other parts that made her feel vulnerable and weak, she had this ominous feeling that there was something behind his sudden disappearance, and she couldn't ignore it.

That's why she was standing on the Dursleys' front door, rehearsing greetings.

"Hello mrs. Dursley, is harry here?" No, that sounded too stupid, she thought.

"Hello i was wandering.." bugger, get a grip of yourself Nada, you can do this, she muttered.

She took a deep breath, and rang the bell, ignoring the muscle that was beating loudly inside her chest. She gulped when she heard approaching footsteps, and braced herself when the door knob turned, and the door was open.

"Hello mrs. Dursley," she started in reciting mode, but stopped abruptly when she realized who opened the door, it was Harry- or his ghost.

She suppressed a gasp on the sight of him, his face was gaunt and pale, and his clothes were too wrinkled as if he spent too much time sleeping in them and then there was his hair, something was horribly wrong with his hair. From one side, it was as messy as it always have been, and from the other it was chopped too close to his scalp growing more sparse at his temple where a white bandage was placed.

He was as surprised as her, for he quickly half hid himself behind the door.

"er, Hello," she managed to say, not managing to look away from his injury as quickly. He kept staring at her so she continued stuttering "I'm-m sorry if it's a bad time- I was just worried- you -I.." she mentally slapped herself for her everlasting awkwardness.

Harry was about to say something when his aunt yelled from inside "Who is it?!"

He looked inside, then glanced at her, then looked inside again, this time more focused as if checking for something then he finally said, with a hallow toneless voice "It's no one," he gave her a meaningful look gesturing with his head towards his right, and mouthed voicelessly what she could understand as "the park", then he closed the door.

* * *

She sat there, on a bench in the park, watching as mothers yelled, laughed, chased and fussed, as mothers do. While children joyfully bounced everywhere. She sat before a scene that would have brought her peace if it wasn't for what she has seen in the morning, if it wasn't for whom she is waiting for on that bench.

She waited patiently as hours passed, and was about to leave when she felt someone sitting beside her.

"Sorry for making you wait," he said, looking to the distance.

She looked beside her to face him, now dressed in a Hoodie covering his head. She took her time to find her voice.

"it's ok," she said finally.

They sat in silence for a while except for the sounds of two girls playing with a rubber ball nearby.

"What happened to your head?" She blurted out, the words too heavy with her accent.

"I fell," he said still not looking at her.

"How?"

"I fell on the edge of a table"

"How?" She repeated, as if he said nothing.

"How what?" He said, annoyance bubbling in his voice "I just told you, I fell over the edge of the kitchen table-got stitches," she winced at that.

"you know what I mean Harry" she said gently, which was his last straw.

"No I don't, enlighten me!" Now his voice was louder, harsher.

She would have doubted that she was mistaken about her assumptions if he wasn't that defensive. Someone did this to him, all the signs screamed that, it was almost impossible to ignore them like she did before.

Well, she knew it but now that she knew that it was actually dangerous, physically dangerous she couldn't ignore it anymore. In fact, she felt angry. Angry for him and at him. Angry that this had happened to him, happens to him, and angry that he is treating it with foolish stoicism.

"Somebody did this to you," she said matter of factly, firmly "and you should tell someone".

There was a moment when she heard nothing except the sound of the rubber ball being tossed between the two girls, then suddenly one of the girls hit the ball too hard sending it towards them, Harry caught it with astonishing reflex, it almost scared her.

He forcefully tossed the ball towards the girl, catching her mother's attention, he ignored it however and gaped at her. "What, you work with the social services now?"

She started to panic "Harry, please just listen to me- I know you must be fee-"

At this he stood up interrupting her " .Nothing," he said slowly stressing on each syllable in each word "You don't know me- stop acting like you do" she just froze, but he continued with his ranting nevertheless " What? Do you like that role? The beautiful princess that saves the street rat? Do you think that this will be some kind of a nice story that you'd tell latter to your 'uptight' friends? - save your charitable acts for someone who needs them, I don't need your help," and with that he left, leaving her stunned on the bench in silence, she couldn't even hear the whispers that erupted between the disapproving mothers.

* * *

His head was throbbing, he was out of breath, but he never slowed down or stopped to rest. His feet angrily pounded at the ground, echoing in his head with pain.

He didn't know how or when have he reached his room, but once he realized that he was finally there he collapsed on his bed.

He was too exhausted.

He took off his trainers, and threw both of them forcefully at the door, and with a thud, he lied on the bed staring at the ceiling, he ruined everything.

When he saw her this morning, he felt something between shock and relief. He didn't realize how much he missed her until he saw her. It was like realizing that he was thirsty right after a cool glass of water was pressed on his lips, and he almost had a sip, when it was brutally knocked out of his hands, leaving him nothing but the realization of thirst.

He hated that he was that thirsty for care, he hated that she probably knew it, that she probably talked to him from the very beginning out of her good heart, out of pity. There was a voice in the back of his head that whispered these thoughts to him whenever she smiled at him, or laughed at his jokes, or scooted on a bench to make a space for him. He used to ignore that voice but he couldn't bring himself to do it when he saw raw pity in her eyes. He couldn't stand it even if he was that thirsty.

He was dragged harshly from his thoughts when his room's door flung open revealing a livid Petunia.

"Who came this morning? It was one of them wasn't it? WASN'T IT?"

He tried to be as calm as possible "I have no idea what you are talking about," He replied tonelessly.

"One of your lot came to my doorstep today, that is where you went !- I knew it ! I knew that you are determined to ruin my life!" She continued screeching waving her hand dramatically everywhere, he remained silent.

"Is it over?" He asked wearily.

"No! It is not over! If one of the neighbors saw them- I will make sure that you regret it! I will make sure that you regret ever being born!"

He snorted at that, and sighed "well, you can check this done already," he stood up and looked her in the eyes "you have done a great job in that!"

They stood there for a moment, looking at each other, when he finally broke eye contact.

"It was no one," he said finally.

"It better be," she said striding out of the room.

"Just let me be," he yelled after her making her stop, she didn't turn around to face him but he continued, with a lower voice that had a tinge of pleading "have an ounce of mercy, and let me be- go back to ignoring me, forget that I exist for a while"

"How can I?" she said quietly turning around, "how can I when you look at me with her eyes, when you remind me with this – this freakiness, this abnormality that took her away from me" she continued her voice hardening "she didn't stop here, no perfect Lilly didn't stop here she got herself blown up and I ended up cleaning her mess - and I have to deal with her freak of a son, I have to feel indebted every day to my husband because he has to bear with my burden, I have to risk my own son's safety. I can't- I can't pretend that you don't exist as long as you are breathing"

He smiled at her, a smile she couldn't interpret "there's a great, great possibility that this little problem of yours will be solved soon, and I'll stop breathing, and you will never have to deal with me or my abnormality anymore"

Her eyes narrowed for a moment in confusion "what do you mean?" she said flatly.

"What? Are you concerned? Will you grieve me if I die like you certainly did with her?" he said, mockingly.

She stared at him for a moment "it will be good, to have an extra free room in our house" with that, she turned on her heel and left, leaving him standing alone in the middle of his small room.

She wouldn't ever acknowledge the twinge of remorse she felt after the words left her mouth, and he wouldn't ever acknowledge the twinge of pain he felt when he heard them.

* * *

It was too cold for this time of the year, he took a mental note to wear something warmer next time he gets out after the sun sets. He didn't realize where he was going until he was standing at the bottom of the ladder that lead to the roof of the abandoned shop.

That abandoned shop was Nada's discovery, he was actually surprised that he lived there his entire life and didn't notice it. When he told her that once she told him that sometimes it takes an outsider, to notice.

He reached the roof to find her sitting there, in their spot, wrapped in a huge shawl and looking into space.

"I am sorry," He said without a greeting.

She flinched violently clutching her chest and muttering something in her mother tongue, it sounded like she just cursed.

He hurried towards her "oh, I'm sorry"

She laughed "That is too much sorries in one minute"

"am I forgiven then?" He said with a smile.

"You are forgiven then," she said scooting to give him a space to sit beside her.

"That was quick" he said rubbing his arms for warmth "shouldn't I beg for a while?"

She eyed him for a moment a serious expression on her face "are you cold?"

He stopped rubbing his arms "What? Why-"

She didn't wait for him to continue, she just unwrapped her shawl and gave it to him.

He laughed nervously, mimicking her own words "last time I checked, boys took off their jackets for girls, not the other way round"

"That's not a jacket," she reasoned "and we will probably share it"

"It's fine," he said offering it back "it is really not that cold and-"

She grabbed one end of the shawl, spreading it between them, and wrapped her side around her shoulder. He didn't have any choice but to comply. And within seconds they were sitting on the ground, sharing her blanket like shawl.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while when she finally spoke again.

"I am sorry too, I shouldn't have pried"

"it wasn't that," he added as an afterthought "well, not only that"

"Then what was it?"

"I think- well I thought, that you felt sorry for me"

For a second he thought that she stopped breathing.

"What! Harry, no!" she took a deep breath and continued a bit calmer "you know, I also thought that you worked there, not only my Dad"

he was about to interrupt her but she held his wrist to stop him "no, listen Harry- do you know why we thought so?" He shook his head "because you didn't act like a broken person"

she gulped and continued " You hold yourself proudly, you are not broken- that day at the park, you weren't the person who's trying to smoke the problems away" she stopped there then continued more calmly "you were there for me Harry, you didn't know me but you chose to be there, obviously the world is not very kind to you but you choose to be kind anyway- and Harry we are who we are when the world is not on good terms with us"

"You sound like Dumbledore," he said finally regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

"Like Who?" She giggled

"Professor Dumbledore, he is the headmaster at my school," he said the truth.

"Well, I will take that as a compliment," she said snuggling more in her shawl.

He tensed at the realization of how close they were, although they were not touching he could still feel the warmth of her body, and the sound of her breath, eventually he couldn't help but relax.

"It was my uncle," he blurted out "you asked if someone did it, it was my uncle"

At this, she remembered Nanna's words, wounds sting worst when they are about to heal, or being cleaned. This was going to hurt, but he was at least ready, she thought.

* * *

AN: First, i need to apologize for the mistakes that littered the chapters previously. I try to proofread them but i either don't get all the mistakes or I don't recognize them. that's why I really need a beta, so any volunteers will be much appreciated. Second, I won't be updating daily for the next chapters because I figured out that maybe I will need more time to finish the final chapters properly. and finally i was thinking of creating a tumblr for the story, because i find it a bit hard to communicate through ff, so what do you think?


	6. Chapter 6

"It was my uncle," he blurted out "you asked if someone did, it was my uncle"

She didn't move, she almost held her breath, she almost didn't blink, in fear that he'd back off.

"It isn't a frequent incident however," he continued, talking to his feat "usually I am too quick and he's too Lazy- sometimes it is even quite funny" he snorted at that then took a deep breath and continued firmly when he found that she didn't really find it funny "This time, was an accident, it never got that bad," and it was true, in fact that wasn't what was bothering him at all. He was no stranger to pain, to an extent that it truly didn't matter to him anymore.

He has been injured more severely on other several occasions in Hogwarts, either on the Quiditch pitch or on his unlucky encounter with above student level kind of trouble. Death had missed him by inches at times, but he didn't felt as hurt or as alone.

He waited for her to express her shock or to start lecturing him about telling someone or even claiming that she understood, but she didn't say anything, she just sank in sad silence.

"It honestly doesn't bother me," he said trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"I know Harry," she said genuinely "This," she waved a hand towards his head "is not what's bothering you".

And it was true, he knew it was true, and was shocked that she could say it that simply, as if she understands. He gazed at her for a moment studying her, then directed his gaze to the distance, to the houses of privet drive standing identically like soldiers under an ominously dark sky.

"There's that day, when I was seven- or eight," he said with a soft voice, a distant cautious voice that could only belong to a soul being bared, voluntarily.

This time she turned to look at him, he continued gazing in to the distance.

"I missed the school bus, me and my cousin- we went to the same primary school," he sighed and continued "we ran behind the bus trying to catch it, naturally we tripped and fell- hurt our elbows and knees. Duddly started crying, he was never hurt that badly before, and I assume he didn't know the way home, I helped him up and we walked home together- I knew the way home, I usually missed the bus you see," a ghost of a smile passed on his face.

He looked back to his feet, fidgeting with the hem of his jeans,"It was almost as walking home with a friend, he was quite nice to me, and I felt proud that I was in charge and did pretty well, I thought that she'd be proud," he then paused and took a deep breath. " she wasn't of course, she was so angry, but I thought that maybe we scared her, maybe she was just too worried- she kept checking Duddly, checking his elbows and knees and palms, kissing his forehead and cheeks- I thought that maybe it was because Duddly was scared, so I just waited, looking at them" this time he took a shuddering breath "she brought the first-aid kit and tended to his wounds, and I just waited- this time for my turn, I had wounds too, I didn't dare to think that she'd hug me or check me like she did with Duddly, but I was wounded too, and I thought that she'd tend to my wounds, I remember taking a step towards her moving my sleeve upward and looking her in the eyes waiting for her to make a move - she closed the kit and took Duddly to his room".

"I stood there in the middle of the kitchen, alone and bleeding, at that moment I knew that she hates me, and it hurt- and it hurt the same the night I got this" he tilted his head as a gesture "she just looked at me with-with disgust, as she always does, she can't stand even touching me, I literally disgust her,"

"and no matter how much I tried, I still can't hate her" he said finally, firmly.

Nada knew that if she hugged him right now, it will ruin everything, so she just hugged her knees instead.

"That-that's Nobel of you," she managed to say he chuckled lightly at that.

"No, it is not _noble_ of me or anything," he said, with the remainder of laughter in his voice "she took me in her house, sheltered me, fed me and clothed me, she kept me alive for 15 years".

"There is a huge difference Harry, between being kept alive and living- love is what makes us _feel_ alive, what makes us live,"

He looked at her, his brow furrowed as if her words brought some sort of dejavu.

"I can't ask her to love me, this- this will be too much to ask for," he sighed " this is what bothers me the most- that after all this time I still want her to"

"It is only natural Harry, almost instinctive, you share the same blood"

"She is the only connection I have to my mother," he said absent-mindly "I just wish things were different, I wish she'd talk about her more, their childhood maybe, her preferences- anything that indicates that a Lily Evans walked on this earth, any evidence that she was actually here, sometimes I am not even sure that my parents were reall—existed"

"Have you ever asked her?" She asked tentively

He shook his head "No," he said tonelessly "I don't know if you have noticed or not, but we obviously don't exchange sentimentals, especially when she is in the process of aiming a frying pan at me,"

There was that very brief silence, then the both bursted into laughter, the kind of laughter that drains both your energy and dignity, hurts your Stomach and brings tears to your eyes. In another place or time or context, it may have sounded ridiculous- absurd even to laugh at such a simple statement, but they didn't care much.

"Please, please tell me that she didn't actually aim frying pans at you" Nada managed to say finally between her last giggles.

"Ahh, she certainly did" he said, grinning.

"A FRYING PAN? I thought that these stuff happens only in Tom and Jerry!"

No brief silence this time, they both swirled in another spiral of painful laughter, this time their bodies couldn't take it anymore. They lied back turning her shawl to a picnic blanket.

Their laughs gradually dissolved in a comfortable silence, both of them sank deeply in the mesmerizing Velvet sky above.

"That's beautiful," she said softly.

"It is," he whispered.

"I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid," she said a hint of a smile in her voice.

" And what do you want now?"

"I want to be happy," she said almost immediately, he turned his head and looked at her, although he could only see the profile of her face he could still see how her features changed, something sad passed it, she quickly added "well until then, I want to be a professional photographer".

"That's, well, unique" he said then added quickly "in a good way I mean".

"I am pretty good at it, you know" she said with a smirk.

In deed he didn't know how exactly one can be good at taking photos, he didn't want to offend her though so he just nodded reassuringly "I am sure you are".

She finally looked at him, and with half amused half detrimened look on her face said "you don't believe me, do you?"

He stuttered "well- no I do believe you of course".

"Lair!" She said, laughing.

He chuckled too "I mean of course you are good at it- the thing is I don't know exactly how you _can't_ be good at it- everyone takes pictures you know,"

She looked scandalized, but still maintained the humor " I can't believe you just said this," she laughed " I will have to show you someday then".

"Can't wait," he said faking enthusiasm, and not making any effort to make it sound real.

She returned to looking at the stars "so what was your dream job, Mr. extraordinary?"

"I don't remember having one, was quite living the moment" he said with a distant voice. In fact he never thought about it growing up. Before Hogwarts he didn't dare to dream, he knew that at some point his relatives will kick him out and he'd have to be on his own. With no proper education, or any special talent, he knew that people like him end up doing the dishes in some restaurant, and it sounded the only reasonable option given that it was his only field of experience. After he knew that he was a wizard however, he had that glimpse of hope that maybe there'll be a future for him in that world that accepts him. But it is hard to think the same now seeing the great possibility that he won't have a future, in the wizarding world, or in the world in general. He realized with a cold feeling that he was merely surviving, he has always been.

"And what do you want now," Nada's voice mimicking the way he asked the same question has made the merciful intrusion to his thoughts.

"I want to be alive, I want to feel, to go to places, to have a place to call home, to have a family, to get drunk maybe, do foolish things, to look forward for something- I want to be alive". The words left his mouth shamelessly, and it felt as if a burden has been lifted suddenly off his shoulders, making him feel lighter, even physically lighter.

"Someday, you will" she said her voice full of emotion but stern, "Because you of all people deserve it Harry". She held his hand tightly, in an attempt to grant him one wish, to make him feel.

He was about to reply but his breath was caught on his throat however when he felt her tracing with her thumb the scars on the back of his hand. He didn't wait for her to ask. "I can't talk about it" he said simply.

She just nodded and smiled, maybe in shame as if she crossed an invisible line of privacy.

"It isn't that I don't want to, but I truly can't without lying, and- and I don't want to lie to you"

"It has nothing to do with your relatives?" She asked, for the first time a hint of confusion on her face.

"No"

"Harry, you didn't do it yourself? Did you?"

"not on purpose, no, not in the way you think I may," he said catching her hint.

She just looked at him for a moment, and her eyes traveled upwards to his lightning bolt scar, but thankfully she looked away and didn't say anything about it.

She directed her gaze to the stars, still holding his hand.

"It doesn't matter," she said finally "you are more than the scars you carry, they don't define you"

He subconsciously touched the scar on his forehead, she was worlds away, he confirmed to himself, so close but worlds and worlds away.


	7. Chapter 7

"Hey!" She said cheerfully startling him, she couldn't ever understand why he took car washing so seriously, and why he'd reach to his waist whenever startled, he grinned at her however so she just brushed it away.

"What are you doing up so early," he said rinsing the car with the hose.

"Walking obviously," she took a step closer, eyeing his work.

"You walk too much," he said still busy with the car, washing it way too seriously. She couldn't help but contemplate him putting every ounce of energy he got in scrubbing and cleaning, he looked a lot skinnier in the vest he wore, however his muscles were toned and his movements were precise and quick, the way he focused on the job and did it effortlessly was both heart breaking and amazing.

He started to work on the inside of the car when she wordlessly took another step closer and started helping him, he stopped on his tracks at her action.

"What?" She said "Come on that way you will finish faster, and then we can go walk together- it is really boring, walking alone- I am just doing myself a favor".

He contemplated that for a minute, then took the dirty cloth from her hand and continued working on the back seats.

"I can't," he said finally "My uncle's sister is coming over and I have a lot to do".

"Well that is a better reason to give you a pair of extra hands" she grabbed another cloth and copied what he did.

He smirked at her "you will get yourself dirty," he took a step closer wearing a mock serious expression "besides, you probably don't have enough experience in that sort of hard labor".

"You keep underestimating me," she said unzipping her sweatshirt and tossing it on the grass, snatched the washing cloth from him and started working.

He looked at her with an amused expression on his face, one day she is in a silk dress smoking a cigarette in an empty park, and another in a plain white t-shirt and jogging pants cleaning the neighbors' car.

They worked in near silence, the silence breaking occasionally when Harry gave her instructions here and there.

"I don't get the point of cleaning the boot, I mean it is supposed to be dirty, isn't it" she said huffing a stray lock of hair out of her face.

"Well, tell that to my uncle," he said helping her getting the tool box out of the car boot " Besides, he will be picking up his sister today and if her luggage gets dirty because the boot is dirty, because I didn't clean it well.."

"Fine, fine," she interrupted "I get your point" she bent over to clean the far corner of the boot, her shirt traveling upwards in the process revealing a strip of tanned skin. Harry mentally reprimanded himself as his gaze lingered on the spot for too long, crossing all the borders of politeness.

He coughed nervously and said "You really don't have to do this".

She looked at him over her shoulder "I know, but I want to".

"Have a break then," he said "I will get the rest done" with that he took the now very dirty cloth from her leaving her no choice to comply.

She moved to the spot where her sweatshirt lied, picked it up and tied it around her waist. She noticed then the hose lying innocently on the grass, with its faucet closed. She glanced in Harry's direction making sure that he finished cleaning the car, sure enough he was actually collecting the cleaning supplies.

"Hey Harry!" She called for him, the moment he looked at her she directed the water right to his face "you owe me this," she said in business like tone.

He gasped in surprise as the cold water drenched his clothes, face and hair.

He glanced at the car first to make sure that his handy work was safe, then glared at her dangerously, so she just raised a brow in a _show me what you got_ gesture and directed the hose a second time at him.

He laughed, he couldn't help but laugh as the water dripped from his hair and his vest clung pathetically to his body. He looked at her in determination "That was unfair," he said "Now you owe me," and before she could react he strode towards her and grabbed the hose spraying both of them with water in the process.

She raised her hand in a sign of surrender, her hair wet only from one side and sticking out comically "I surrender!" She said giggling" I request peace".

Harry was about to launch another attack when the front door was violently opened and the high pitched voice of his aunt struck him before she could even come to his view "BOY! What is going on here?"

Nada quickly hid herself towards the side of the house, Harry wore a blank innocent expression to face his aunt. "What is going on, where?" He said.

"You were talking to someone! - and why on earth are you drenched in water!"

He kept his innocent face and said with a shrug "I was washing the car".

She stared daggers at him and looked around searching for a sign of someone else, Nada dove deeper in her hiding place that she almost reached the backyard.

His aunt hissed to him "You were talking to someone from your lot," she glanced around to see if any of the neighbors were listening " I told you before, if I ever have any of those freaks in my house again you will regret it potter! You will painfully regret it!"

Harry's expression didn't change at all "and I told you I was talking to no one, I was actually singing- sorry if I woke you up"

She looked at him as if he grew another head "Singing!"

"Yes, you know, speaking poems in a tune?"

She shot him one of her nastiest looks and said "Vernon will get Marge earlier, you better start on breakfast and then you will help me in dinner".

He didn't move, looking sideways were Nada disappeared.

"Did you hear me?"

He reluctantly moved towards the front door while his aunt didn't move from her place.

* * *

Nada was about to leave her hiding place when she heard rushed footsteps approaching, she darted quickly to the backyard and waited for a fraction of a second, but the footsteps were approaching anyway, she glanced around in panic when she heard a rushed whisper from the kitchen door.

"Come, quick" harry opened the door and let her in just in time "Go upstairs, the room with the locks on its door" she looked at him questionably "Go!" He whispered, so she ran to the stairs and tried to climb them as quickly and silently as possible. She looked around franticly for a door with locks, it was on the far right of the hallway, she looked around cautiously, opened the door and entered a very small room, Harry's room, she realized.

She sat on the small bed, and looked around trying to grasp her surroundings. The room could barely take a small bed, a very small wardrobe and a desk. There was an empty huge cage on the desk near the window, and to her shock there were bars on the window. She didn't dare to move around, not only in fear of making any sound, but also because she knew that she crossed a line with Harry, she shouldn't be seeing this, she gazed at the door waiting for him to open it at any moment, but she noticed something in the lower half of the door, a cat flap, realization washed on her coldly, she shouldn't be seeing this.

She took off her shoes and curled on the bed, waiting and thinking. Why did she hid herself when his aunt showed up, she didn't know for sure, maybe because he told her before that she didn't like guests, maybe because of the look of urgency on his face, or maybe be she was just caught by surprise. But she was thankful that she did. Hearing the conversation between Harry and his aunt, especially the part of "you will painfully regret it" made her shudder.

* * *

Harry couldn't remember if he ever worked that fast in his life. What was he thinking, why did he panic, and God there's a girl in his room. What if she saw his books? If Hedwig came with letters? What if she got curious and went through his things? And then the more embarrassing ideas came through, he couldn't remember the state of which he left his room, what if it was too dirty? What if there was too many apple cores or some dirty pair of under pants lying around? He worked as if those what ifs were physically chasing him.

He finished the breakfast as fast as possible, and laid the table quickly. He wanted to leave desperately but he stayed as calmly as he could manage so that he won't raise any suspicion. He washed the dishes as his family had their breakfast, then he ate his own breakfast hiding a banana and two toasts in a napkin, and could barely suppress a sigh of relief when his family moved to the living room.

He slid slowly out of the kitchen but stopped in his tracks when his aunt's detested voice hit his ears "Go wear a proper t-shirt and come down again to help with dinner".

"Yes aunt petunia," he said obediently, and moved quickly towards the stairs.

He opened the door hastily, but paused In front the scene before him. Nada, soundly asleep on his bed. He smiled against the whole situation and closed the door slowly.

He changed in to an old T-shirt then moved to the bed tentively "Nada," he whispered "Nada wake up".

She stirred lazily but then she gasped and sat upright immediately, looking around disoriented.

"It's Ok," he said quickly as she gained her composure.

"Dad will kill me," she said the remainder of sleep in her voice" I have to return home"

He looked around for a moment, then took her hand abruptly "Come on, we will simply get downstairs and leave-that is ridiculous, you shouldn't have hidden in the first place"

She didn't move however.

"Come on," he said insisting.

"No Harry, I heard your aunt" his grip was loosened around her wrist "I won't get you in trouble- Dad will be mad but I can handle him-but- but I am not really sure if they could be handled"

"I can handle them!" He said defiantly.

"But you don't have to," she reasoned, sitting on his bed.

He took a deep breath then muttered "Ok," then with a louder voice "but I can't guarantee that you can leave before dinner, my uncle just left and my aunt will keep fussing around the house until he gets back, my cousin is probably asleep now or lazing around in his room, but he can be up and about any minute".

"I will stay till dinner then, when all of you are in the dining room I will sneak out," she said a little more confidently than she felt.

"Fine," he said, then noticed the wrapped toast and banana on his desk, "here, I brought you something to eat, you must be hungry"

She smiled widely at the gesture," You have a girl in your room, and all you think about is to feed her?" she took a piece toast and started nibbling at it "that is so- _motherly_ of you".

He blushed but tried to cover it up with a mean retort " _considerate_ , the word is _considerate_ \- and you're welcome!" she merely giggled at that, starting on peeling the banana.

In another universe, this would be a funny story to tell his kids, about how he kept a girl in his room in the middle of the day. How she was funny and bright and ate her banana in just three huge bites. In another universe he would have done something rash. In another universe the possibility of living to the day when he has kids won't be that slim.

"I must go now," he said finally, "I will try my best to be quick"

"it's alright, I will make myself at home, don't worry," she said scanning the room for somewhere to put the banana peel.

He glanced around nervously and nodded "Ok then".

* * *

A couple of hours passed, she glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table every minute to make sure that time actually passed.

It wasn't only because she was bored, but there was something about the room that made her feel claustrophobic, the bars, the locks, the size, everything about it was like a prison cell with only the essentials of living, they kept him alive, she thought.

The idea that Harry grew up here sent shivers down her spine, that he was probably locked here, maybe for days given the innovative idea of the cat-flap, she couldn't stand a couple of hours, how on earth did he spend 15 years here and still maintained his sanity.

All her problems seemed trivial and childish, well most of them. But her respect for the bespectacled boy swelled in her heart, amidst all the mess, He was thoughtful enough to bring her something to eat. Amidst all his mess, he could still be kind, and that both amazed her and made her feel quite uncomfortable. For she knew, with no doubt, that if the places were reversed maybe she wouldn't find it in herself to be kind, whilst the world is crumbling apart around her.

She was mercifully dragged away from her thoughts when she heard the door open, only wide enough for Harry to enter.

"Sorry for making you wait" he said, almost breathless.

"That's ok," she said "I had plenty of time to think"

He glanced around nervously, she wondered why he did that all the time.

A bang on the door startled them both, but thankfully no body opened it.

"They will arrive shortly, make yourself presentable," Harry's aunt screamed behind the door, he merely closed his eyes in annoyance.

"Honestly Harry, she is a nightmare" she said exasperated.

"You haven't met Marge yet," he said chuckling.

"They all should be abducted by aliens," she said seriously" the poor aliens will get a taste of the ugliest part of humanity, and flee away"

He laughed at that.

"I should be get going," he said "I don't want to give her a reason to barge into the room".

She nodded "yes please".

He strode to the wardrobe and picked up a shirt and a pair of trousers, but before he could turn around he realized what he was about to do.

"Er, I will have to change here" he said busying himself with unfolding the shirt "Dudley is using the bathroom, and anyway she will get suspicious if.."

"It's ok, go on" she interrupted him, and turned her head to face the window. That didn't help much though, as he could still see his own reflection in the window, crossing his fingers that she won't notice that particular detail, He reluctantly started to undress.

She gazed at the sky above, it was clear and unusually blue only disturbed by the ugly bars of the window. She could picture how the world, wide and full of possibilities, can be marred by ugly bars. Ugly bars of traditions, ugly bars of misfortune and ugly bars of one's place in life.

"One day, you will leave," she said solemnly, not sure if she was talking to herself or the unfortunate boy whom she was giving her back to.

He stopped in the act of buttoning up his shirt.

"One day, you will live the life that you deserve"

He didn't move or make a sound, he just stood there.

"Are you decent enough?" She asked his reflection in the window, _so well, she noticed that particular detail_.

He nodded absently, then realized that he should speak "er, yes"

She turned around slowly, taking a step nearer, and reached out to button the last button of his shirt, her hand lingering there for a moment, "One day, you will be happy" she said, looking him straight in the eyes "You deserve to be happy".


	8. Chapter 8

He was right, that Marge lady made his aunt look like an innocent harmless kitten, even aliens shouldn't have the misfortune of abducting her. She didn't see her but her voice was more than enough to draw the picture, the air vibrated with her voice shooting orders at harry, carry this, clean that, bring this, take that, to say that it was nerve breaking is an understatement. She couldn't help but wonder how on earth harry could be that calm and composed dealing with her.

As if in an ironic twist of fate, she heard violent shouting downstairs, followed by hurried footsteps ascending the stairs, and the door flew open revealing a slightly disheveled and dangerously angry Harry. She flinched violently as he slammed the door shut with such force that she thought the walls of the room would didn't even seem to notice her, as he paced around the room kicking and groaning and swearing.

She just stood there trying to absorb the whole situation, not sure what to do.

"er, it would be stupid to ask if you are alright, wouldn't it," she said finally as calmly as she could manage.

It was true that he forgot that she was actually there, for his head snapped in her direction the moment she started to talk. The anger etched on his face haven't had the chance to dissolve yet, and seeing it directed at her made her blood run cold. She was scared, irrationally scared.

"S-sorry for that," he said, fractionally calmer.

Nada was relieved when his expression softened a bit as he started to talk. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, she wouldn't have the chance anyway as they heard the clicking of high heeled angry footsteps ascending the stairs. Without much thinking, she quickly hid herself in the empty cramped corner between the wardrobe and the desk, spending so much time in the room had paid off apparently.

The door had flew open again, his livid aunt didn't step into the room mercifully.

"What are you playing at?" She shot at him "You will not ruin this again! I could barely patch things up with Vernon last time!"

"She called her a Bitch! She explicitly called your own sister a Bitch!" Harry said, his voice rough and harsh.

"I DON'T CARE!"

He snorted "Off course you don't, why would you.."

"No no no," she shook her head frantically as she entered the room and closed the door behind her, "I am not discussing this with you Boy! You will behave! You will behave or you won't step an inch out of this room for the rest of the summer! Not even for the bathroom," her eyes lingered for a moment on the floor, and was about to leave then added as an afterthought "might as well live like the criminals you enjoy mingling with, wasn't he a criminal?" She smirked "That ruddy godfather of yours?".

"Shut up," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I am not surprised that he blew himself up as well, after all he knew your good for nothing, drunk of a father" she continued, as if he said nothing.

"Shut up!" He said, Louder.

"You know, I can't blame Marge for calling her a bitch, hanging out with the likes of your father, drunk driving, and all" she pushed, enjoying taunting him.

At this he lunged at her violently, but stopped himself immediately before he could touch her "You know that this is a lie" he hissed at her, panting "no matter how much you keep saying this, you know that this is a lie. It doesn't change who she was, what -what she was capable of" he took a deep breath and continued more defiantly "and that the only thing that _you_ are capable of is wiping your unnaturally white kitchen floor".

Her smirk fell, her eyes fixed on his, silence thick with the leashed ranting.

"You better behave" She said finally , and left.

* * *

Nada sat on the floor, breathing heavily, she was about to leave her hiding place several times but the reasonable voice inside her head kept her in line. She would make things worse, she knew it. But sitting there, and listening to all of this, was so wrong. So so wrong.

She has wondered before who were Harry's parents, and how did they die. She could deduce that it was an accident as they apparently died together, and although the conversation she just heard has answered a lot of questions, it raised more. She wasn't supposed to know this way, she wasn't supposed to know at all probably, therefore she didn't have the right to ask, to wonder even, but she couldn't help it.

Although she has heard that Harry's aunt left, she couldn't bring herself to get up from her position, somehow facing Harry after this was much more of a challenge than facing his aunt.

She noticed the shadow on the floor before she noticed his figure standing there. She looked at the towering figure and didn't say anything. She just scooted to the right so that she was leaning on the wall and her feet touched the desk. He sat wordlessly beside her drawing his knees to his chest and leaning on the side of the wardrobe. She rested her head on his shoulder and he rested his on her head. And somehow it fitted them, that cramped space between the desk and the wardrobe, that dirty corner of that shabby room, that small area of the house, the neighborhood, the world, the universe, fitted them perfectly and didn't feel small or cramped. In fact, both of them never have fitted in anywhere any better.

When she'd recall this moment later, she wouldn't know why she did it, or how did he comply wordlessly.

They sat in silence for a long time, each drowned in their own thoughts.

"That was a lie," he said finally, his voice raspy and rough "my parents weren't- weren't what she said they were,"

He didn't know why, but he felt that it was important to clear their names.

"I know," he felt her voice rather than heard it, "you have good blood,"

She couldn't see from the way they were sitting how he frowned at this "How do you mean?" He said.

"if you grew up here, and you turned up like this- it must have been in your blood, you have good blood, I mean- your parents must have been good people" she smiled and continued " Nanna used to tell me -wait I have to mentally translate this" the both laughed at this.

She then said as if solving a complicated equation "Good blood never get drained in vain"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" He asked, slightly amused.

"Well, I guess the same thing- but I like to put in Nanna's wiser phrasing"

He snorted "Grandmothers are meant to be wise, I suppose"

She smiled "yeah, I suppose- I miss her so much" she said almost to herself.

"Where is she?" Not really thinking about the question.

"Back home," she traced circles on her drawn up knees absently "she used to live with us-insisted to, after my mother passed, but she couldn't keep up with all the moving and settling"

"I hope you see her soon," he said.

"Yeah, me too" she said with a sigh.

She would talk more about her Nanna, she needed to, with someone who won't get so touchy and so guilty and so apologetic and so unbearable, with someone who is not her father. But she felt that given the current time and place all of it sounded so small.

"Harry," she said tenderly, her head still on his shoulder," Do you want to talk about it?"

She felt the steady movement of his chest stop for a second, then he inhaled deeply, sitting straighter which caused her to move as well, "You know," he said "what they say that talking helps?"

She turned her head to face him "mhmm?"

"It doesn't," he looked her in the eyes with solid and intense certainty "it doesn't help at all" she could hear raw despair in his voice.

She held his gaze for a long moment, the sun was setting and drowning the room in a serene orange glow, reducing the bars on the window to weak shadows on the tattered wooden floor. And although half of Harry's face was dimmed with a shadow, the sun rays reflected on the other half, illuminating his eyes. She realized how beautiful, very beautiful they were.

"Have anyone ever told you that your eyes are so beautiful," she said startling him.

Taken aback, he blushed deeply, and looked away immediately "erm, well they say that I have my mothers' eyes"

"Well, they are- beautiful" she said again with the same intensity, trying to look deeper in them as if she was watching a rare jewel on display.

Harry chuckled uncomfortably and muttered "erm, well. Thanks" he stood up stiffly from their cramped space "I-I should probably get going," he made a show of fixing his clothes "I will leave the front door open, once you make sure that we are all in the room leave"

She nodded and stood up as well.

Before he reached the door he stopped abruptly, "I am sorry," he said hesitantly "you probably had other things to do today, better than getting stuck here all day"

She smiled "Don't worry, nothing I couldn't catch up with later".

* * *

She has never appreciated the cool night breeze as she did the moment she set a foot out of that doomed house and broke in to a run. She couldn't stop the memories that replayed themselves quickly in her mind as she was leaving. The room, the cat-flap, their voices, and Harry. Harry serving dinner and standing in a corner waiting for more orders, Harry's eyes pleadingly asking her to leave before they notice her. Harry looking away, ashamed.

She knew that she had a lot of explaining to do to her dad, but she truly and sincerely appreciated the cool night breeze, like she never did before.

She took a deep breath as she opened the front door, not really settled on the scenario she'd sell to her dad. The truth is, she rarely did that and when she did, she was complete rubbish at it. All the thoughts about alternative scenarios were stopped abruptly however, when she saw him.

He stood in the middle of the hallway, apparently was on his way out, as he was fully dressed in a suite. But that wasn't what worried her, it was the look on his face that made her heart drop.

She understood, even before he pulled her violently in his embrace. She understood but it didn't sink in until he started muttering in her ear "I am sorry" he breathed heavily "I am so sorry Nada"

A sense of dejavu has washed over her, and everything went gradually darker, until she slumped in his embrace.

* * *

AN/ thank you for reading :) , I am still working on the rest of the chapters, that's why the intervals between updates will take more days. but don't worry I will NEVER abandon the story. I really appreciate your positive reviews and will be very grateful if you share with me more of your thoughts about the story.

Much Love xx


	9. Chapter 9

_He has never realized how beautiful she was, may be because it was the first time to see her that close. Her fiery red hair fell graciously beyond her shoulders; her bright green eyes danced with mirth, and a calm smile rested on her lips. His mother knelt beside him gently brushing the hair from his forehead._

 _"You have grown up," she whispered, planting a kiss on his temple._

 _Her expression changed however, as she glanced the wound on the side of his head, her eyes welled up with tears as she traced the wound with the tips of her fingers._

 _He shuddered a bit but didn't move "Mom.." he whispered "it hurt, everything hurts"_

 _His mother wrapped her arms around him tightly, rocking slightly backward and forward, he was starting to feel uncomfortable as the rocking became quicker, and her hold became tighter- almost suffocating, he didn't say anything however. Her breathing quickened, and the rocking accelerated violently, she frantically murmured in his ears "I love you Harry, Harry we love you, you are so loved honey," then she screamed, a high pitched sound that cut through his heart "NO!-Not Harry, please Not Harry!"_

 _He wanted to do anything, he wanted to move, he wanted to scream, he wanted to do anything, but he couldn't and sick realization has dawned upon him-he was bound from his shoulders to his ankles with something thick and leathery and slimy, a snake, Nagini._

Harry woke up with a start, sweat tricking from his hair to his forehead, his legs and arms tangled in the sheets, and his heart thumping madly in his chest.

Experience has taught him to calm his breath first before moving. He tried to breathe steadily shaking the reminder of the horrid dream from his mind, and untangling himself slowly from the sheets.

He sat on his bed for a minute, his head in his palms, trying to absorb it all. He knew that it wasn't a vision, but he couldn't just shake it off. He reached for the glass of water he usually kept on his desk, but found it almost empty. With a frustrated groan, he slumped back on the bed.

He knew that he won't be sleeping anymore, somehow the room was too stuffy and he felt the walls physically narrowing on him. Maybe on another day, he would stand it, but it seemed that the thirst, the frustration, and the stuffiness of the room had teamed up on him, causing him to throw any shred of self-preservation he had left out of the window.

Without bothering to change, Harry padded down the stairs and in to the kitchen to get himself a drink of water.

* * *

"You have grown up, Harry,"

He jumped at the voice and turned around to see a scene that was even too surreal to be a part of one his own disturbing dreams.

His aunt was sitting at the kitchen table in her night gown, in her hand was a mug, filled to the brim with an amber liquid that certainly came from the slim bottle that stood innocently in the middle of the table. He couldn't see her features clearly in the darkness of the kitchen, but although he hadn't ever seen her drunk, he could say that his aunt was anything but sober.

He slowly moved to the light switch and turned on the light, they both grimaced as the light attacked their night adjusted irises but neither complained. He was too shocked and she was too drunk anyway.

He opted not to say anything, get his glass of water, and leave without any harm done. So, he tore his eyes away from her and moved to the cupboards to get an empty glass, but as he opened the top cupboard she spoke again.

"When you were a kid, you would stand on a chair to reach the top cupboard- you have grown up, grown up a lot indeed" she gulped a mouthful of her drink, and chuckled lightly "Lily's son has grown up and now he brings girls to his room".

Harry was transfixed in his place, the cupboard left open as well as his mouth. How could she know? Did she actually know or was she just rumbling in her drunk state?

She laughed at his shock, and took another gulp "Ahh- I saw Harry" she giggled covering her mouth like a school girl "I saw her clothes on the floor".

Realization washed upon him immediately, Nada had her sweatshirt tied around her waist when she entered his room, and at some point during the day she disposed of it on the floor. His aunt must have seen it when she entered the room that afternoon. But if she did, why didn't she say anything?

"I don't know- it is not-" he started to stutter not really knowing what to say, or if she will even remember it latter anyway.

She poured herself another drink, and looked at him with what he thought was meant to be mischief "I saw what seemed to be an outer garment, did you manage to take off anything more.. _inner_?" She giggled again.

Harry would never admit that the heat he felt creeping to his cheeks and neck was because he was embarrassed. He turned from her abruptly and with shaking hands, got himself a glass from the cupboard, and filled it with water from the tape.

As he drank the water, she started raising the mug in an attempt of making a toast, the mug slipped from her shaky hands however, landing on the shiny white floor with a loud crash.

"Oops" she giggled again, and bent over to pick the broken pieces.

Harry started to panic when the mug made contact with the floor, but he was distracted almost immediately when he saw the dark red that smeared his aunt's fingers. She was bleeding.

He moved to her side quickly. "wait- leave this" he said, picking carefully the chunk of broken china from her hand. He disposed of it in the kitchen bin, then picked a kitchen towel to collect the rest of the shards. He had to literally slap his aunt's hand away as she tried to pick the broken pieces again.

When he cleaned the mess the best he could, thankfully without hurting himself, he moved his attention to his aunt.

"I don't know what's wrong with you, drunk and all- but please keep it down" he hissed at her, truly not fancying his uncle to barge in- in this too weird scene. He didn't even imagine the assumptions that he'd draw, but he knew that he will be in knee deep trouble.

His aunt merely grunted, and grabbed the bottle to drink straight from it. He noticed however, that the blood that smeared her fingers came from a very nasty gash across her palm which was bleeding rather profusely.

He turned and climbed the stairs as quietly as possible, made his way to the bathroom and back in an impressively short time with the first-aid kit in his hand.

Harry sat himself on the chair opposite to her, and held her hand gently turning her palm up. Then he started cleaning the wound, keeping his eye only on her hand and the first aid kit. He forced his mind not to wonder to a very similar situation where the roles were switched and a similar kit was snapped closed before his wounds were treated.

She, however, didn't move her eyes off him.

When he held her hand, she felt an ice cold water bucket being dumped on her head. For a moment she felt sober, not normal but sober. Her normal self would have wrenched her hand immediately from the boy in disgust, scolded him, and blamed him for the accident. But she wasn't her normal self, that saw him through eyes that were blinded by loath and envy. She was sober from her normal state, the real drunken state.

Somehow she saw him too vividly, that her eyes hurt. She saw the slightest blemishes in his pale skin, the bone structure of his face, every lock of jet black messy hair, every fleck on his iris. Then the more disturbing things, the scar on his forehead that she spent too much time trying to hide, standing out defiantly against his complexion, looking stronger as if it drew its strength from other scars that marred the boy's body through the years, the dark circles under his eyes that confirmed her doubts about the boy's nightmares. She saw how old he looked, not just older as her Dudley looked with facial hair and rougher voice, but old _old_ ; like a man beaten and battered by life.

She was disturbed but she could still see the way he frowns in concentration, like her Lily; the way he sighs in frustration when he is trying to focus, the way he looked just normal, just plainly human. The discovery, that the freak she kept hidden under her stairs, is plainly human was like a strong kick in the gut. A human, who had grown up to be a young man with soft features and a heart big enough to hold her hand with such tenderness, as if it is not a hand that was ever laid on him.

Harry noticed that her eyes glazed and her expression changed, she didn't look drunk anymore, but she looked nothing like his aunt either.

"I remember the first time I laid my eyes on you," she said looking in to the distance. "You were so small, and so calm- I knew that you were like her," she gulped "you had that-that aura she had, and I understood- at that moment I understood why they loved her that much, why everything revolved around her, it was the gravity -this aura, and-" she rubbed furiously at her now teary eyes "and I was caught in it".

Harry stopped in the middle of wrapping her hand with bandage.

"The first few days," she said more sternly composing herself "I was caught in it, I never left your side, I'd watch you sleep, and play and laugh- I'd watch you summon toys and levitate them, and I knew how it felt to have a magical child, I knew how my parents felt," she drank deeply from the bottle, "but I knew how I felt too," her expression became harsher "and I have sworn, I have sworn that I won't let my own son feel what I felt, live through what I lived through- that evil thing that you and your likes enchant people with, I have sworn that I wouldn't let it affect me".

She went silent for a moment, then her shoulders moved with a quite sob "But sometimes I c-can't, sometimes I see her in you, sometimes I'd watch you when you think I am not looking, hoping that you'd smile because you both have the same smile—the same laugh too".

Harry didn't realize that the lump in his throat was becoming less painful as it released itself in tears that blurred his vision but never had the courage to fall.

"What was she like?" He asked with a barely audible voice, startling his aunt as if she had totally forgotten that he was there.

She smiled however, gulping more of the amber liquid "She was beautiful, she had the perfect skin, the perfect hair, the perfect body, she was ridiculously beautiful". She sighed and then continued her expression soft, and her eyes seeing another time and place "She would make a friend from the first conversation, I reckon it was because she could talk easily about anything and with anyone" she took a gulp from the bottle and continued, "I tried to be like her sometimes but I always ended up saying the wrong thing and making a laugh of myself- but she'd never mind, she would reprimand them and protect me" her eyes shone with tears but she didn't seem to mind "we'd spend nights staying up, talking and laughing, I'd read her stories and she'd invent different endings for them, We were happy, so happy- until they took her away from me".

Without realizing he was doing it, Harry reached slowly across the table and held her hand, she didn't slap it away, she didn't even flinch, and she just let out another quiet sob "they took my lily away," she murmured, "they killed my beautiful lily".

"I am Sorry" he barely whispered "I never wanted any of this to happen—I reckon she didn't to," he took a deep breath and continued "I am sorry that you had to put up with all of this, I really am," he meant it genuinely "and I am really grateful, that you held on for so long although you hat—didn't like me that much"

Her eyes dropped but he continued anyway "I never really hated you, and—and sometimes I wish that you had found it in yourself to—to love me" his voice broke but he defiantly stressed "I wish you gave me a chance, I wish you saw me- saw who I am not what I can do, things would have been easier to bear".

He felt pathetic, but after the tears had freed themselves he couldn't find it in himself to stop, he went on; the words freeing themselves as his tears did "Because I am dying aunt petunia, there's very little hope for me—and I am scared," he let out a stifled sob "everybody looks at me as the hero, the savior, but I am so damn scared—I am scared of what is coming, of losing more people, of failure," he fell silent for a fraction of a moment and went on with a small voice "I am afraid that it would be painful, death I mean—what if it hurts? You know.. the thing about pain, you never get used to it- and I have had enough pain aunt petunia, enough pain that I am not sure that I can take anymore" he smiled bitterly " I don't have a choice anyway, do I?"

He took a shuddering breath and wiped with his free hand his tears "It is just would have been easier, if I could tell you all about this—when you are not asleep of course that is" he smiled at his own joke, then whispered more to himself "If you loved me".

He pried his hand gently out of hers. He weighted helping her up to her room, but decided against it. He just thought that if she woke up in the same position, she'd think that she was dreaming which suited him just fine.

When he stepped out of the Dursleys back door in to their backyard, the sky was already dyed with a soft rose color. He knew exactly where he needed to be at this very moment, so he took off immediately, missing the commotion that took place in the house as his cousin, pale in shock, helped his aunt to her bedroom.


	10. Chapter 10

She has always been intrigued by that time of the day, the dawn. Her Nanna would always wake up as the very first rays of the sun announced the beginning of the new day in the sky. She'd ask her, why would she wake up that early, and her Nanna's answer would never change "to witness the joy of new beginnings".

Her Nanna didn't witness this sun rise however, and she will never witness anymore, for she left. She left her alone to taste the bitter taste of endings, the bitter taste that no matter how much she tasted she couldn't ever get used to.

Nada sat on the low stone wall on the edge of the roof, her night gown fluttering with the soft breeze, her socks clad feet dangling lazily. She sat there, wondering what it would feel like, to let the edge go and fall, or fly.

She pulled the her sweatshirt tightly around her body, as the wind has blown a little more violently, as if it was trying to knock some sense into her.

She felt someone's presence behind her, but she didn't have the energy to move to acknowledge it.

"Too early in the day to need to hide," she felt him sitting beside her, Harry.

She looked at him for a moment, not finding her voice to speak "never too early," she managed to say.

Harry was secretly relieved when he found out that the roof was not empty, although he knew that this meant that she wasn't feeling good either, but somehow sharing his misery with someone made him feel better, even if that meant that both of them will spend hours in silence. When she turned and looked at him however, he felt something twisting in his stomach. The girl who sat dangerously on the edge of the roof wasn't the same girl who sat many hours ago on his bed eating a banana in three bites. She wasn't even the angry rebellious girl who sat in a silk dress, in a play park, smoking a cigarette, just to make a point.

The girl that looked at him was the ghost that only passed Nada's face sometimes. Somehow it seemed like the ghost has possessed her completely, diming her bright wide hazel eyes, stealing the peachy tinge she had on her cheeks, and turning her tanned skin to an ashen color. Although her eyes were not puffy or even red-rimmed, although she wasn't a mushy goo of tears, although her voice didn't break when she talked to him, he knew that something terribly wrong has happened.

He didn't dare to ask her if she was alright. So he opted silence.

"Too early in the day to need to hide" she finally said using his own question against him, still gazing to the distance.

He was about to reply when he noticed the medical tape that covered the back of her left hand. She noticed where his eyes had averted, for she quickly covered her hand with her sleeve.

"What happened?" he asked calmly, but sternly.

She didn't answer, and didn't react when he held her hand gently and moved her sleeve backwards revealing the cannula tape. She didn't react either when he traced the tape with his fingers and then her cold knuckles and the tips of her fingers. She closed her eyes briefly however when he took her hand between his slightly bigger palms, reveling in the warmth they have created.

"Nada, please?" he was half frustrated, and half scared.

"I fainted earlier," she said in a foreign voice "That—that is where they put the medicine, you see- to.." she trailed of, then she just fell silent in fear that her voice would betray her.

Harry felt suddenly cold "what happened Nada," he pressed "Did your father- was he angry that you disappeared all day?"

In another day, the statement would have made her laugh. Of course her father would be angry if he knew that she spent all the day out, that is _if he knew_ , or more of if remembered to ask her how she spent her day. He doesn't know that she doesn't spend her time with the people he hand-picked for her the moment they arrived to this foreign land. He doesn't know that she doesn't eat the carefully scheduled meals that he sends daily in a bullet proofed car. He doesn't know that she spends time with her ridiculously expensive camera more than she spends time with human beings. He doesn't know that she left her warm bed and walked out of the front door in her night clothes to sit on a roof because she seriously couldn't breathe. He doesn't know that he literally suffocates her, that she is seriously afraid that one day she would die because she can't breathe.

He doesn't know that there's a great possibility that she survived all these years only because she was with her. _Was,_ her beautiful Nanna became a _was_ , a shadow in the past.

"No, he was sort of distracted" she said finally, dangling her legs off the edge, still feeling tempted "what brought you up here this early?" she tried to distract him, the movement of her legs getting faster "I know how awful they can get, but that early in the morning- really" and faster "I bet your aunt has strangled the Marge woman, a win-win situation mind you-" she forced a laugh, a hallow horrible sound, her legs still moving unnaturally fast." You see, one goes to prison and one straight to hell- I wonder if they.."

"STOP IT!" Harry shouted, resting both his hands on her knees to stop her legs, not caring about the inappropriate touch. "Stop it" he said again, with a lower but stern voice, looking straight in to her eyes despite the awkward angel. What he saw there though, sent a sharp pain in his heart.

She stopped, panting, turning her legs to the other side of the wall re-introducing them with solid ground and for what seemed like an entire eternity she looked straight back to him. One deep breath, and another, and another, and the dam has broken. She didn't make a sound whilst the tears had turned her vision white.

Harry did something he never thought that he was capable of doing before; for a long time he didn't even know that he was allowed to do it, he initiated a hug. His instincts prevailed as he wrapped his arms around the frail shaking body. It felt odd, holding that bony frame and feeling its misery seeping to his own body, as if it is his, feeling his own misery seeping out of his body, as if it never belonged there. And between the wave and the tide, he felt that all the injustice and the melancholy of the world can somehow be justified if it caused bodies to melt together in such a manner. Like the fire can burn and give warmth, like the seas can drown and quench thirst, sadness was the disease and the healer. It didn't make any sense, yet it made all the sense in the world.

Somehow they both ended up sitting on the dirty floor, resting their backs on the wall, tangled in one another.

"She died," two words, just two words but they clawed her insides on their way out of her mouth "Nanna, my grandmother died".

In his short life, Harry has witnessed death in its most brutal, raw, intimate forms. He has witnessed last breaths, shocked, and still bodies. He has witnessed wails of loved ones, silent grief, and the melancholy that settles down together with the battle dust which gets stomped on as life goes on, brutally and mercifully at the same time.

He has witnessed death too many times that he thought that he grew numb to it, until her tears stung the still open wounds.

"I am sorry," he only managed to say "I-I am so sorry Nada".

He felt her nod against his shoulder, and they sat in long silence.

"I couldn't even say goodbye, properly" she said with a distant voice "I just wish that I could've seen her for a last time"

He sat straighter, but didn't say anything in fear that he'd interrupt her.

"I can't even go to her funeral," she continued " _couldn't,_ by now I guess" she fell silent for a moment then continued with more anger than sadness in her voice "Oh but he sent an official someone to do official shite and sent official flowers with official flags and a bullet proof car to make everything look official and amazing!"

She stood up abruptly and shouted to the distance "A BULLET PROOF CAR!- SHE'S DEAD! FOR GOD'S SAKE!"

Harry stood up quickly and enveloped her in his embrace. He wished he could say anything that would make her feel better, but he knew first hand that nothing he could say would fix this. This, was one of the many things in life that were not meant to be fixed.

Eventually, her grip has loosened from the back of his shirt, an expression of shame has conquered that of sadness on her face.

"Sorry," she whispered, eyeing the wet spots on his shirt and not meeting his eyes "I- didn't.."

"It's fine" he said quickly.

She took a deep breath then sat on the same spot on the edge of the roof, he did the same.

They both sat in silence, only disturbed by Nada's occasional ragged intakes of breath until Harry spoke again, his voice bare and vulnerable "My Godfather died a couple of months ago," he said causing the dull stinging that her loss has caused to throb more painfully "I-I couldn't say good bye either, I couldn't say a lot of things actually" the throbbing has grew stronger " I remember being in a lot of pain- I was so angry, so so angry- and so alone. Everybody was sorry, everybody would shake their heads and purse their lips and pat me on the back, but no one felt the pain that I felt" the throbbing turned into a stinging in the corner of his eyes " I have always been alone, it is how I knew life for as long as I can remember. But- but when he died, I felt lonely, and cold and naked and weak and lost- I felt like I was drowning seeing all the familiar faces from beneath the water. All shaking their heads and pursing their lips" he took a shuddering breath and then continued with more composure "I know how it feels, and you have every right to be angry".

She sat still for a moment, her eyes fixed in to his. Somehow both anchored each other. Then she leaned on him, and he wordlessly supported her.

The sun has risen completely, sending privet drive in a warm yellow glow, reflecting over the rooftops and on the spotless parked cars. Birds were chirping joyfully, the air vibrating with the morning sounds that were really audible if one would really listen. A laugh between two early joggers, a baby crying as his father left for work, a dog barking as it dragged a giggling old lady along. The sounds of life, as it went on.

"Will we ever heal Harry?" she asked, her voice if anything, curious.

"Not without scars," he said honestly "but I reckon that we ought to live with those scars, because they are a sign that- that we fought" he smiled a little, that smile of his, like one would smile for a child " they are part of who we are, but _we are more than the scars we carr_ y, right?"

She smiled, remembering her own words "right".

He rubbed the scar on his forehead subconsciously, hoping beyond hope that they were indeed _right_.

* * *

" _Dear Harry,_

 _If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven p.m. to escort you to The Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays. That is, after we take of a rather pressing matter that came to my attention in Privet Drive. If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to The Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you. Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,_

 _I am, yours most sincerely_

 _Albus Dumbledore_ "

Harry finally succumbed to unconsciousness after his need to sleep won the battle over the furious tornado of questions that swirled in his head. He lied fully clothed, over the covers with a piece of parchment in his now limp hand. The last thought that lingered in his mind before he went to blissful darkness, that he can hope, but he will get what life throws at him anyway.

* * *

AN/ Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews for the previous chapter. I am really glad that you liked it.

I have created a tumblr for the story, so if you have any questions, comments or if you just want to discuss any of the ideas or themes that were mentioned in the story, you can drop me a line : thegharibianfics


	11. Chapter 11

Life has some very strange and twisted ways in taking people by surprise, confusing them and sending them in angry swirls down their souls. He lied on his back over his bed with his arms tucked under his head, thinking. It seems to be the only thing he was capable of these days, and it was rather exhausting, rather consuming.

With a sigh, he sat up, swinging his legs to the side of the bed, he paused however when he glanced at the presents stacked neatly on his desk. It was a bit strange, he thought, that people celebrated birthdays. Birthdays are a reminder of a year passed, a year nearer to death, it is downright absurd actually to celebrate birthdays. He smiled to himself, so much for positive birthday thoughts.

He got dressed, not minding that his torn jeans was the only clean pair available, and got down to the kitchen for breakfast. He walked rather groggily despite the fact that he was up right after the crack of dawn; his biological clock was screaming for mercy actually but he couldn't bring himself to comply. His sleeping patterns has been unstable and unpredictable, giving him constant headaches and sometimes dizzy spells.

However, his sleeping patterns were the least of his problems, especially after the letter he received from his headmaster. The master of the chess game that he calls a life.

He didn't know why he was panicking. If this was another summer holiday, the idea of the headmaster picking him up would have been too good to be true, but this is not another summer holiday, this is not the same privet drive he usually left behind, He knew exactly why he was panicking. Nada, as simple and as complicated as the four letter word.

Logically, he knew that sooner or later they both would have to go to their separate schools and go on with their separate lives, separate worlds actually. He knew that it would be nearly a year until they saw each other again. A lot of things can happen in a year, and in his case, a lot of things happen in a year. Logically he knew, but the abrupt letter was like a hard punch by reality in the gut.

He stood in the middle of the kitchen lost in his thoughts, not really remembering why his legs had carried him there until his stomach growled. Right he was hungry.

He looked around not exactly sure what he should do. Eating was always an awkward matter in his aunt's house. He never ate comfortably there, he reckoned that this was only natural when food was withheld as a punishment, and eaten nicked in the middle of the night. Even if he wasn't punished, even when he ate in front of them, or with them on rare occasions, he always felt that their eyes bore into his food, scaling and calculating, and for some mysterious reason he found the comments on the amount of food he consumes the most degrading. So his dilemma was, either to start on breakfast while his aunt is not up yet, and look like he was acting as if it is his own home, God forbids, or he eats anything from the fridge and look like he is stealing food. Between this and that, he just filled a glass of water from the tape to drink, and opted waiting until his 'family' is up.

He didn't wait long though, as his cousin entered the kitchen drenched in sweat and panting. Harry was shocked to realize that Duddikins was actually doing sport that doesn't involve victims trying to run away from him.

"You run now?" Harry said, not trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

His cousin almost dropped the carton of milk he was holding "Bloody hell!"

Harry chuckled "sorry," he said not sounding the least sorry.

His cousin however didn't reply immediately, in fact he looked somehow perplexed as if he is trying to figure out a particularly hard equation. He has been acting strange, Harry had to finally admit it after he caught him several times looking at him, or his general direction lost in thought, and the mere fact that Dudley was doing the slightest of mental activity is too hilarious to believe. He was somehow nicer to him, or at least not as sour as his usual self. It was somehow funny to think about, as he reminded him with Grawp, Hagrid's half-brother, trying to initiate a friendship. Harry couldn't pin point exactly when the new attitude has started as Dudley himself wasn't as around as he usually is in summer holidays, but if this attitude has started from the beginning of the summer, it has intensified those last couple of days.

"What are you sneaking around for?" he finally said pouring a generous amount of milk in a cereal bowl.

"I don't _sneak around_ , I just woke up early," Harry said eying for a fraction of a second the bowl of creamy milk and cereal.

"Yeah, a new habit of yours" he mumbled more to the bowl, before he dug the spoon in to the mixture almost angrily and devoured a spoonful with manners that would made his mother cringe.

"I wake up early since forever, it is just that you were never up to witness it"

Dudley looked like he was struggling to say something, but was interrupted with a loud growl from Harry's stomach.

Harry blushed deeply, and moved abruptly from his chair causing a loud screeching noise against the floor heading to the backdoor and straight out to the backyard.

Dudley stood in the middle of the kitchen at loss. He has been trying to avoid his cousin since that shocking morning three days ago, with no success apparently. Part of him felt curious about the revelations he heard, so he kept stealing glances at him hoping to spot something different, something that indicates that the boy who is laying the kitchen table, mowing the front lawn, or washing the car, is waiting for his own death.

Harry didn't look sick, or different in any other way for the matter. Yet, he saw him in a completely different way. He saw that he often gets that distant look on his face, as if he is in another place or time, and yet he keeps focusing in whatever task he is doing as if it is as natural as breathing. He noticed that he got a new scar on his hand, jagged and weird looking; He noticed that each year he gets back with new scars and bruises. He caught a tinge of hurt in his features, when his mother shouted at him the other day for using one of their plates when he served himself dinner. The idea itself for separating his cutlery than theirs sounded ridiculous for the first time in his life. Well not only the cutlery, but the towels and linens and anything that makes direct contact with Harry's person.

He never put much thought in those things before, well he never thought of it at all. And although he felt a bit hurt by his mother's confessions to Harry, he was intrigued as well. He had a lot of questions all of a sudden, and he doubted that his mother would answer any of them.

Was his cousin sick, is that mag-ablities of him contagious? Was that why his aunt died so early? But he heard she was killed, wasn't she? And there were the other more embarrassing questions, like why did his mother hate Harry that much?

Of course he was a burden, Dudley couldn't count the number of times he wanted to go somewhere and his parents couldn't take him because his inconvenience of a cousin. He remembers the time he kept crying for his mother to go to Disneyland, because Piers went and kept teasing him about it, and after everything was arranged they couldn't go because Mrs. Figg fell ill, and they couldn't leave him there.

Harry was an annoying burden that they didn't ask for, he knew that, but he was family, wasn't he? Dudley was sure that his parents wouldn't mind being burdened if it was him, like the time he broke his leg and his dad took the trouble of carrying his strong big body up the stairs to his room because he wanted to play on his computer, and when his mom cooked for the whole family the food that his school nurse prescribed so that he won't feel left out or tempted.

But they were _his_ parents, they are supposed to do such stuff, aren't they?

They are not Harry's parents though.

And Harry has no parents.

Was that fair?

Too many questions indeed, more questions than he ever had in his entire life that his head actually hurt.

He looked back to his bowl of cereal which went all mushy and saggy, his appetite completely lost.

"Want some tea?"

Harry was sitting in his usual spot, resting his back on the stone flower bed when his cousin's head poked out of the back door and mumbled the words.

"What?" he had heard him already, but he just couldn't believe what he just heard.

"I am making Tea, and nicking some biscuits, do you want some?" Dudley said, looking everywhere but at Harry.

"So, we are on Tea party basis now?" He snorted in disbelief, which immediately earned him a glare from his cousin.

Actually Dudley felt offended, the ungrateful bastard didn't even acknowledge the effort he made to- to talk to him. He was about to let him know exactly that, when someone interjected.

"Who can say no to tea parties?"

The feminine voice came before it was followed by its owner. A girl with tanned skin, short hair and wide eyes emerged from the narrow path that connected the front lawn to the back of the house. Dudley almost wondered how did she knew about the secret pathway but his cousin shocked him when he talked.

"Nada," he said in greeting albeit nervously.

"Hey," she said with a wide smile, " I was just passing by, and heard your gracious voice echoing through the boring silence of Privet Drive," she waved her arms around her dramatically.

Harry laughed "In a good mood today I assume"

"Nah, not really, but I figured out if I roared curses in the middle of the street at this hour in the morning, I will steal the lights from you" then she leaned a bit forward towards his ear faking a whisper " you wouldn't like that, would you?"

The sudden close proximity sent heat to his cheeks, but he merely chuckled "uh- well..".

"Besides," she interrupted with a mock cheerful voice "I heard that you are holding an early morning tea party" and for the first time since she barged in, she looked at the general direction of his cousin.

In fact, his cousin stood stupidly with his mouth hung open, watching their exchanges with eyes as wide as saucers.

"I- I don't think that's a good idea," Harry stammered nervously.

Harry couldn't believe how trouble can find him so ridiculously easily as early as he starts a day.

He was actually mad at her, because she knew that this would bring nothing but trouble, but she simply accepted Dudley's invitation to join them with strange eagerness, an invitation she actually asked for.

She purposefully ignored him the moment she passed from the backdoor threshold. A passing observer would definitely think that she was actually Dudley's friend not his, he doubted that Dudley himself thought that she fell immediately for his charms and forgot totally about the conversation she just had with Harry in front of him. It was sort of a legitimate assumption though, Harry thought as he looked at her sitting there on top of the kitchen table laughing with his cousin who was looking too pleased of himself that his jokes are earning him that shrieking laughter, which was nothing like her.

The way she sat, one leg over another, the way she ignored that her top kept traveling upward revealing that strip of tanned skin, the way she bit the biscuits and chewed them like some tacky ad girl, the way she was laughing at each of Dudley's stupid jokes, wasn't her.

Somehow Dudley's invitation to make tea was all gone, and Harry found himself pouring the tea himself and serving it to them.

"Oh thank you," she said with a high pitched cheery voice as he put the steaming cup in front of her. He looked at her in the eyes for a moment questionably, and he found her there. It was her playful self, not the bubblegum ad girl, but she switched to the latter immediately the moment she turned and looked at Dudley feigning interest in some story he was telling.

"Er- Hello?"

Harry's head whipped to the kitchen door to meet his aunt's face embellished by a strained smile. She was dressed in her regular morning dress, but took extra care with the hair. Apparently she assumed that Dudley had someone over.

"Oh Hi!" Nada said before Harry or Dudley could speak, "I am Sorry to intrude that early in the morning," she hopped off the table and walked to his aunt extending her hand " I am Nada, Dudley invited me for tea" she said beaming at him, he puffed his chest in response.

"You have a pretty convincing young man here Mrs. Dursely" she leaned towards her and added in a loud whisper "such a gentleman".

Petunia beamed proudly at her son "Well, well.."

"And believe me," Nada interjected more loudly "I know one when I see one, I have met princes, Noblemen, and Diplomats," she answered the question etched on Petunias face before she could put it in words "You see, my father is a Diplomat, that's our regular social circle you know" she shrugged casually.

Petunia's eyes gleamed with fascination and greed at the last phrase, she beamed so wildly at her son and looked prouder if that was even possible. "My Duddikins is indeed a gentleman," she said almost breathlessly and missed the embarrassment that she caused him mentioning the nickname "however, it is not appropriate to invite guests over tea that early in the morning- a full English breakfast is in order!"

Harry watched in pure astonishment as his aunt's eyes scanned Nada as if she is the perfect front lawn association gold medal. He didn't have any idea what was Nada up to, but somehow his irritation was replaced with sheer curiosity. This will be fun, he thought.

She was up to something, he thought a bit amused with the conversation he was hearing from the sitting room while he helped his aunt with breakfast. His uncle has joined Dudley and Nada, being his nicest upon his aunt's order and after he smelled the odor of money and authority as well. She had the ability to seem so nice, while she was actually offending them. He snorted loudly at her comment when Vernon told her what he does. "Oh," she said "Well, my dad always says that every job is important, even the most boring and the most insignificant looking ones".

He knew that he should feel bitter at the fact that he was playing the silent servant in that improvised play, but it was too amusing to sulk.

"..I told Dudley here that he will reach some great great places," he heard her saying, he was sure though that she told Dudley nothing of that sort- God she just met him, "once he loses several pounds" she continued, " and when he get rid of that slight stutter her has".

"I-I-d-don't stutter!" Dudley stuttered affronted.

"See?" she said and Harry assumed she was talking to his uncle "It is only very slight". He had to stifle a laugh at that, that he found it a bit hard to breathe.

By the time they retired from the sitting room to the dining room, Vernon's face was a nasty shade of purple, and one could fry an egg on Dudley's red cheeks.

"It's not much," Petunia guided Nada in "but it is the best traditional English breakfast you will eat"

Nada sat with grace that contradicted with her sportswear "Oh, I don't mind modest food" she said innocently "I am sure it will taste great".

Harry stood awkwardly beside the table not knowing what he should do. Normally he wouldn't eat with guests, but his aunt said nothing to dismiss him. Actually they were all so flustered that he thought maybe they forgot that he is there.

"Won't you sit Harry?" Nada addressed Harry for the first time. The sound of cutlery which has just started to scrape against china suddenly stopped.

His uncle seemed to be choking on his own tongue, his cousin fidgeted uncomfortably, and his aunt's mouth opened and closed like a fish.

Not waiting for their reply, Harry Spoke "Well-uh, I miss-counted- I will go get an extra plate"

His aunt looked surprisingly relieved by his reply, maybe she feared that he would say that his not normally allowed to eat with guests.

When Harry was back, and took a seat beside his cousin Nada was dominating the conversation "..and I told Daddy that Privet Drive would be just fine, no need to stay in a posh neighborhood when will move anyway to London".

His aunt looked a bit disappointed but she just gave her one of her fake smiles, while his uncle jumped in defense for the neighborhood "Privet Drive is one of the best neighborhoods in Surrey! " he said chewing on a fat sausage "the finest if I may say, very classy indeed!".

"Well," Nada said making a face and looking with poorly masked disgust at his loaded mouth "I can introduce you to my father, and then you can convince him"

Vernon and Petunia looked at each other with the excitement of a boy on Christmas morning, Harry never saw his uncle grin so widely that his beedy eyes disappeared where his cheeks met his brows. He could barely cover up his snort with a cough, earning a warning glare from his aunt.

"I will have to talk him in it a bit" Nada continued, maybe to distract his aunt "you know, he doesn't really like to mix with-uh- people" she left out _like you_ in a fake attempt to be tactful.

They continued the meal with the awkward chit-chat, Nada being completely rude and polite at the same time, the Dursleys trying miserably to impress her, and Harry enjoying the show while he ate a magnificent full English breakfast.

"That was a Lovely morning Mrs. Dursley" Nada said pleasantly as Petunia Guided her out "I really enjoyed my time".

"Oh dear, please call me Petunia- I will be expecting another proper visit soon" his aunt replied with a high pitched laugh. Harry wondered what was so funny to even fake a laugh.

"Sure," Nada said "Oh, and I love your dress by the way".

Petunia looked down at her dress proudly, sliding her hands down it sides as if she was trying it on for the first time.

"Is it a Dior?" Nada asked, Harry didn't understand what she meant but the look on his aunt's face was priceless.

"Well, uh- No, but I do have a.."

"Ah-never mind" she waved her dismissively "It has a lovely cut, matches- you know, your pear shaped figure" she eyed her lower body with a smile "and your hair color- I love it! Not a singular white hair visible!" she said checking her hair with feigned astonishment "Where have you had it done?"

At this Petunia was finally losing it "I am naturally blonde" she said flatly but still maintain the friendly façade.

"Oh," Nada said curiously "I just assumed you know- because of the.." she gestured around her own eyes referring to wrinkles and dark circles "anyway- it was great meeting you" she smiled politely.

With that, and some final multiple goodbyes, Nada left, leaving a very self-consciences Petunia Dursley looking at her thighs in the hall mirror, checking her hair frantically as if she found one of Aragog's grand children in it

She would do great in Slythrin, Harry thought as he washed the dishes. If he hadn't known better he would have said that Nada was some kind of shape shifter, which changed in personality rather than in appearance. He was astonished at her ability to humiliate people by being so polite to them. He almost felt bad for the Dursleys about what she said to them, and that says something of her ability to be mean. His friend was a Slythrin personality shape shifter, he snorted.

Ron would be furious if he knew he had a Slythren friend, He thought as he dried the last dish, but Ron will never meet her, because she is not a witch, and she would never be a Slytherin because she doesn't even know that Hogwarts existed, that magic existed, and cold realization has dawned upon him. He was leaving in days, and he didn't tell her anything about it.

He was leaving and wouldn't see her for almost a year, and he didn't even mention it casually.

He strode towards the stairs feeling the sudden urge to hide in his room. However, he stopped abruptly at the sitting room threshold.

"Aunt Petunia?" he said with a curious voice.

" Emm" she didn't raise her eyes from the fashion magazine she was reading.

"What is a Dior?"

The china swan ornament hit the wall missing him as he ran upstairs.

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AN/ I am very sorry for taking so long to update, unfortunately i won't be able to update as frequently because I am currently writing these last chapters. I will post my progress on the tumblr account though ( thegharibianfics ).

much love xx


	12. Chapter 12

AN: I have been listening to Edd Sheeran's "photograph" while writing parts of this chapter and thought that it fits perfectly as a soundtrack for the chapter. So yeah. soundtrack: Edd Sheeran, Photograph

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"In my wildest dreams!- I wouldn't have EVER EVER imagined that you could be that mean!" Harry said shoving another piece of chocolate cake in his mouth.

"In your _wildest dreams_?" Nada giggled teasingly, he swallowed thickly and seamed suddenly interested in his chocolate smudged fingers. She took another piece and shoved her in her mouth as well, not caring the least that her hands and probably her face as well was all smudged with chocolate.

The chocolate cake was her Nanna's recipe, it was a far cry from the real thing but it tasted good nevertheless. She wasn't very good at celebrating birthdays, but has always done her best to make her presents as personal as possible. However, when she realized that it is Harry's birthday, she was shocked to discover that she didn't actually know much about him to get him a personal present.

She didn't know what movies he liked, or his favorite band, his favorite color or even his favorite ice cream flavor. For a moment she contemplated buying him something nice, like a new shirt or a Kashmir jumper, then she shook away the idea deciding that she definitely spent too much time with her Dad that he was starting to rub off on her.

So she settled on chocolate cake; everyone loves chocolate cake, even if you forget to get anything to eat it with and end up eating it directly from the serving dish.

She wiped her hand on one of the paper napkins she thankfully didn't forget and continued "besides, It is not like you are so innocent yourself- I have heard the people talk you know."

His expression hardened a bit but he kept his chewing pace "and what do they say?"

"That you are a _bad_ boy- that you go for some school for _criminals_ " she tried to keep the humor in the conversation, but couldn't hide the tinge of curiosity that lined her voice.

"Who told you this?" he said somewhere between ashamed and angry.

"The ladies in the park" she said sensing his distress, then added as an afterthought "that day we fought in the park."

"When I shouted at you" he didn't know why he felt that he had to correct this.

"Well, or that" she said nonchalantly.

"And why did you stay then?" he said, looking at her in the eyes, the afternoon sun reflecting in his green orbs the way it did the other day in his bedroom.

"Because I know you, I know that they were lying" she sighed dropping the nonchalant façade "or that they were not- but there must be a full story, I know that even if it is the truth there's certainly an explanation". She then took a small piece of cake and bit it the way she bit the cookies back at his aunt's "Besides, I like Bad boys."

He smiled at that "stop doing that- I am trying to make an effort here to forget that- that you!"

She started licking each finger of her hand "oh- really? And why is that if I may ask?- am I making you uncomfortable? "

He laughed despite of his embarrassment, "STOP IT!" then he took both her wrists in his hand to make her.

She giggled while he wrestled her arms away, then she changed her strategy from defense to attack by targeting his face with her chocolate smudged fingers, somehow managing to grab actual cake and rub it in to his face and hair which fueled his aggression as he reached for the cake as well, grabbed a piece and was about to retaliate but stopped abruptly when he realized how they were positioned.

She, lying there on the dusty floor on her back, her wide eyes full of mirth, her soft curls surrounding her face, and there was that dimple that appears only on one cheek when she smiles. He, absorbing her image from above.

Her smile faded a bit and her face rested into more contemplating expression, not really sure why did they stop fighting.

"You are making me uncomfortable," he said slightly breathless, most probably not because of the cake fight. He sat back on his heels and then to a more comfortable position looking to the distance, not sure why he felt suddenly so sad.

It was as if reality has slowly washed upon him, replacing the giddy feeling he felt with anxiety and insecurity, all the happiness he felt evaporating like smoke. He felt angry as well, that he lost control that he forgot who he was and what he should do, that he naively thought that he can just think about here and now, and forget all about what lies ahead. He was even angry that he forgot what has happened a couple of months ago. His godfather was dead, because of him. He has a mission to accomplish, and he didn't have the slightest idea how. The world is collapsing around him and he was lying on top of a girl on a rooftop in the neatest mugglest neighborhood that can ever exist.

Harry's train of thoughts was cut brutally by the familiar sound of a camera shutter sound, his head whipped instantly to the source of the sound ready to attack, but he was shocked to see Nada holding a camera, grinning at him.

"Sorry," she said "I couldn't miss that shot."

He recovered slowly from the shock, but he couldn't hide the tinge of betrayal he felt "no cameras were mentioned in your invitation" he said.

"I told you that I will show you how good I am at this" she said "besides, what is a birthday party without a camera?" she leaned forward to wipe some chocolate from his face, not noticing the slight flinch that her touch earned. "Now, stand over there," she said excitedly gesturing to the edge of the roof.

"What?" he said, perplexed.

"You will be my model today," she said pushing him bodily to the said spot.

He was too mortified that he didn't move away from the spot she pushed him to. "NO!" he said regaining some of his concentration "NO WAY!"

The look she shot him however was enough to tell him that there's no way out of this.

"I am sure that you are good at this, you don't have to prove anything," he said sheepishly as she adjusted his position.

She stepped back and started pressing on different buttons on her camera, her expression turning from playful to serious in just seconds. She looked through the lens and then back up to him "I don't have to prove anything, yeah" she said a bit absently "but there's something about you that I was dying to shoot the moment I saw you."

They both stopped breathing for a second, trying to absorb what she just said. She pressed the shutter button in the camera, in a desperate attempt to take the attention away from the words that hung thickly in the air between them.

"At least tell me when you are going to take a photo," he said feigning irritation, playing along.

"I am going to take a photo," she said pressing the button again, he just laughed, and she caught the smile on his face in another photo.

She took his note in consideration though after that, and told him before she took a photo, in fact she gave him detailed instructions that he was starting to have a headache. He couldn't ignore though how much she seemed to enjoy it. How her eyes shone, how she knew what she was doing, how for the first time she looked really in her element.

"Take off your shoes" she said in an all business tone.

"Honestly.."

"Please" she said bouncing around like a mad potioneer who just discovered a cure for lycanthropy "and stand on this" she gestured to the low stone wall the surrounded the edge of the roof.

He raised his eyebrows "if you want to get me killed, you could just ask nicely- a lot of people could happily take care of that."

"Afraid of heights, are we?" she said ignoring how his last sentence sounded.

He stepped out of his shoes, "oh please-heights are afraid of me," he replied smugly walking to the spot she pointed to.

"Your socks too" she said adjusting the camera.

He frowned at her but quietly complied, and stepped up the stone wall feeling its rough texture with his bare feet, his toes curling slightly around the edge instinctively trying to ground himself.

"Close your eyes," she said, and he did.

"Spread your arms wide," he heard her saying "Feel the wind on your face, through your hair" he felt the pores on his skin breathing "Feel the stone with your feet, feel everything, feel with every cell of your being- and breathe". He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. His senses all working at the same time; he listened to her voice, heavy with her accent; he listened to the birds flying home; he listened to the wind, and felt it cold on his skin, as well as he felt the air filling his lungs; he felt everything, and was aware of it, even the remains of chocolate on his taste buds. He felt alive, and for the first time in forever he felt grateful for it.

He heard the shutter sound, but he didn't open his eyes.

"You are indeed good at this," he said calmly, slowly opening his eyes.

A serine smile rested on her face as well "happy birthday Harry."

He smiled and stepped down the wall, and sat on it facing her "would you believe me if I tell you that I never really liked my birthday."

She sat next to him "would you believe me if I tell you that I feel the same."

He turned his head to look at her, not really grasping why a girl like her would feel like that.

"However," she continued "I believe that we should celebrate birthdays, we should pause and give ourselves a round of applause because we survived another year- each birthday is a sign that we fought and won and survived," tears had formed in her eyes so she looked away "that we will survived, regardless of everything- that we survived without them"

He realized that he didn't hear that tone in her voice, since the last time they were on this roof, that bare voice of her, that distinct sound that make her voice hers, emerges and dominates it when she is the most real version of herself. He realized with some guilt that he forgot all about last time they were on that roof, about her loss. Maybe because she didn't look devastated anymore, maybe because she seemed to move on too quickly, maybe be because she laughed and chatted and found it in herself to bake him a birthday cake. He would have envied her about how she could forget so quickly, only if he didn't see that look on her face at that exact moment. He didn't envy her, he respected her.

"How do you do this?" he said softly "how can you still be you, how can you carry on, regardless of the pain?"

She sighed and looked at her folded hands in her lap " Nanna told me once, that the beauty and the pain in life lies in its ability to make us move on, instinctively, exactly like the instinct to survive- a drowning man will still fight for air even if he jumped in the water in suicide, instinct" she took another deep breath and continued "it takes a really desperate, broken man, to stop resisting when he's drowning- I have seen that, and it is ugly, I don't want to be that"

Harry looked at her in confusion, so she answered his unspoken question "my father- my father was so broken when she left that I came back from school one day and found him in a pool of his own blood"

Harry's heart skipped a beat.

"There was blood everywhere, and he just sat there only in a towel, looking at it as if it is someone else's" she continued as if she forgot that Harry's there "it took him a couple of days off work and a weekend to recover" she laughed humorlessly "I remember the day I saw him on the breakfast table, suit and cigar and all, as if nothing has happened- we never even talked about it."

Harry's muscles went stiff, a couple of minutes ago he was wondering why a girl like her wouldn't like her birthday, and now he was wondering how a girl like her can wake up each morning and live her life as if everything is fine. Throughout his life, he has never felt that anyone had it worse than him, but at this moment despised himself for ever thinking so. _There are other people in the world Harry, your misery is not the center of the universe_ , he berated himself.

He cautiously raised his arm and curled it around her shoulder, she was startled at the beginning but relaxed in his embrace.

"You are very good at this" he said after a moment trying to cheer her up "It seems that people can be especially good at taking photos."

"I will sound too smug if it tell you I told you so, but yeah _I told you so_ " she said lightly "want to try though?" she said offering him the camera.

"What? Me?" he said "n-no I won't have a clue what to do."

She thrusted the camera in to his hand "come on, give it a try."

He held it quickly, tightly "Whoaa- it looks, complicated- ehm and expensive," examining the camera closely "No, I am too afraid to break it."

"In that case I will have to break your neck, but that is off the point" she giggled at the expression on his face, and took a step closer to him "you adjust the focus like this," she held his hand to the lens in demonstration "and you zoom like this" she continued ignoring how he fell silent so suddenly "and when you are satisfied with everything that's the capture button on the top" she finally looked at him, secretly amused of his nervousness.

He gulped loudly, but tried to appear more confident than he felt "well, emm stand over there then" he said fumbling with the lens like she tought him "or, no- um sit , sit on the edge there."

She beamed at him and complied, sitting on the stone wall, then tossing her hair to the side "do I look good?" she asked.

 _You look beautiful "Just_ move a bit to the right- um no to your left, my right" he said looking through the camera.

She complied and grinned at him, he captured the photo and let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding, she couldn't help but laugh at him.

"You look cute when you try to concentrate like this," she said taking the camera from his hand, he blushed instantly however "and when you blush like that," she giggled.

"I am not blushing!" he mumbled "and hey, I am not cute! Puppies are cute- I am not a puppy!" he said with a louder voice, looking seriously offended and if possible even cuter.

"Ok fine- fine" she placated him "you are not cute! Rather good looking actually."

He hid his hand with his face and talked behind them "you are doing this on purpose aren't you?"

She pried his hand away from his face, and looked in to his eyes for a moment "maybe," she said "but that doesn't change the facts."

She handed him the camera abruptly in an attempt to diverse the attention away from her words, and his awkwardness "here, try one more time."

He took it wordlessly, and fumbled with it like he did earlier, focusing on how the wind messes with her hair, her wide hazel eyes, and the dimple that appeared faintly as she smiled a small smile. Then it occurred to him, to use her photography technics against her "you have a beautiful smile," he said. Her smiled grew wider engraving his beloved dimple and he captured the photo. When he did, realization has downed upon her and this time she barked a loud laugh which he captured quickly too.

"You!" she said still laughing "using my technics against me, and I thought you really thought that I have a beautiful smile!" she patted her chest feigning hurt.

"That doesn't change the facts," he smirked.

She let out another loud boisterous laugh "you are a quick learner, aren't you?" she said.

"You are a good teacher," he retorted.

"Am I?" she said, her voice calmer and if anything dreamy, she smiled at his baffled expression "I want to do this, learn it more professionally and teach it to kids- who see too much, kids from every place in the world, and we'd give the world a real memory, capturing real things, real people."

He sat beside her crossed legged on the floor, "Why haven't you tried it before?- I mean, you've been to a lot of places already."

"You are not the only one with bars on his windows Harry," she said fiddling with the lace of her shoes, then she looked at him, sadly "I can't leave him alone- I am too afraid to leave him alone, well at least I was,"

"You are not now?"

"He found someone- I saw them together the other day, when you found me in the park"

Her image, with her champagne silk dress, smoking on an empty park bench, seemed ages away.

"So he moved on, but I have to let go, and I am afraid to let go- it is life as I know it,"

He looked at her, recalling the passion that seeped out of her eyes when she held the camera as if it is a living creature, how she stroked it lovingly after each shot as if in gratitude, almost like he petted Hedwig's feathers after she delivers a letter, the warmth that she emitted when she talked about it, how she bounced with happiness, and how it was contagious that he himself felt some affection for the device. He knew that sometimes he is not a very observant person, but he was sure that this was not just a hobby of hers, and it sort of pained him that he doesn't feel similar passion to almost anything.

 _No_ , he thought, he does feel a similar passion, not for one thing but sort of for everything. For Hedwig, his broom, and the feel of the snitch under his fingers while he is panting after a fierce Quiditich match, for Ron's dirty jokes and Hermonie's incessant nagging and the warmth he feels when he is squeezed between them sipping Butter Bear at the Three Broomsticks ,for Nada, the morning dew that made the heat of his summer holiday bearable, for the sight of Hogwarts for the first time after the summer holidays, for Hagrid's bear hugs no matter how he claimed that they embarrassed him, and even for the sun that sets with the same magic both over Hogwarts and over Privet Drive. He has the same passion for life.

At this moment he swore that he won't let anyone take this away from him, from them. He swore that he will fight for a world where Nada can travel around taking photos and telling stories, where he can have a home to call his own, where the young can be young and grow up on their own pace. Not because he was trying to be a hero, or he was feeling suicidal, but because he knew that if someone can stop the upcoming storm, it was him.

"Promise me something," he said startling her after she drowned in her own thoughts, she looked at him with a frown "that you will leave someday, that you will break the bars on your windows, like you broke mine.." she was about to interrupt but he continued "you did break mine Nada, break yours and leave, let go, do what takes your breath away, the world is too cold Nada- too cold and people like you make it warmer, bearable"

She sniffed, and turned her head to watch the sunset "It is getting dark," she remarked.

"It is getting dark," he affirmed not necessarily speaking about only the sunset.

She turned to him "do you want to take one last photo, you and me together?- I can set a timer"

He smiled at her "set a timer then."

She did exactly that, and placed the camera on the most convenient spot she could found, and ran back to stand next to Harry. He looked at her, not sure how to pose, but she made it easier as she curled her arm around his waist, so he did around her shoulder, and as he smiled she whispered in his ear quickly, his smile widened and she smiled as well. They heard the shutter sound and he photo was captured.

Her words as well as the heat from her breath lingered in his ear, "I promise," she said.

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AN: I know It took me forever to update, but I was having a mean writer's block and lacking motivation. The good news is, there's only a couple of chapters left. I need to know however what do you think so far so please review.


	13. Chapter 13

"Dear Mama,

I know it has been a while since I last wrote you. Usually when I am that lost or confused or feeling that even breathing hurts I'd go to Nanna. She has left though, and I can't bring myself to write to her the way I used to write to you; because it makes it all real and it makes breathing hurt more and I somehow can't handle this right now. I miss you mama, and I miss her too, and I miss how life was easier and happier. I try, I swear I try to be happy. I take photos, and bake cookies and talk with Harry. You don't know Harry of course, you know, sometimes I think that I don't know him either. How does a person know if they know someone anyway? I have been living with Dad alone for more than two years now, I have been trying to be the perfect daughter ever since you left. I stopped crying, I stopped fainting, and I stopped panicking, and I stayed strong for him as much as my body and soul could stand, but at the end of the day it wasn't me who made him smile again, I don't know him enough for that. It wasn't me who made him want to live again. He found someone you see, some other woman, and I feel betrayed when I know that I shouldn't, when I know that it is selfish, when I know that you'd probably want this for him. Want him to move forward. Good news here, he moved on. Nanna's moved on too on her own way. And you are where you are. And I am here alone. I guess I will just go find Harry, he will be somewhere by now feeling sad for some reason I don't know, and I will go feel sad with him, because even in misery we need companions.

Love you mama"

* * *

Nada's legs carried her almost on their own accord to house number 4. Somedays she'd just feel horrible for no apparent reason, she'd find it hard to get out of bed, she'd find it hard talk, to swallow her breakfast, and she'd find it hard to live for no reason without even a trigger. It was like coming down with a flue in the middle of the summer, and summer flues were always the worst. They are not explainable, they are often not very obvious, and your fever heats your body only from the inside. Nobody sees it, nobody believes it, and in Nada's case no body is even around to feel or believe or otherwise.

Her flat sandals hit the pavement as she walked with purposed steps towards the house. The scowl on her face didn't quite match her white sundress, so it could be easily attributed to the late afternoon sun. When she reached the house her footsteps didn't stop, she searched frantically for him as if she dropped him somewhere on the front lawn. She couldn't find him leaning on the stone flowerbed, washing the car or hiding between the bushes. She knew the other options however, the playground, or the roof. Their roof by now.

"Looking for something?" a vaguely familiar voice called behind her back, she turned around to face one smug Dudley Dursley.

"I'd say someone" he said with a smirk and a puffed chest.

She wasn't in the mood for this now. She nervously fumbled with the small pockets of her dress, produced a cigarette and a lighter, and shakily started to light the cigarette.

"I am looking for Harry" she said in a distant voice.

A look of bewilderment was drawn on his face, it would be funny on another day "Harry?- Why? Why would you be looking for him?"

She truly didn't have the strength for this, she was about to leave when he spoke again.

"How do you know _him_ anyway?- I noticed that you know each other the other day" he said, his confusion lined with venom.

She laughed sarcastically at this "Oh Dudley you are very observant!"

The look on his face said that he couldn't decide whether she was serious about her compliment or not, and somehow she took pity on him. It wasn't his fault after all that she felt like murdering someone today, not anybody's really. "We live on the same street Dudley, why would it be weird that we know each other?" she said her words mixed with smoke.

"Because he is _Harry_ , nobody here talks to him- he's just too filthy and weird," he said as if it is the most obvious thing in the world, she just kept starring at him so he continued "you don't believe me, do you? You know-" he started chuckling, a cheap method to add suspense to his story "we used to play this game back when were kids-we called it _Harry Hunting_ " at this he burst into laughter "can you imagine! I know it doesn't sound fun but the git was too fast that he made it much more exciting than it sounds! Once, we caught him and tied him to a tree" he let out another wave of laughter "the whole day! He was just tied there- oh you should have seen how his cheeks and nose turned all red from the sun!" he continued not noticing at all how Nada just kept staring at him, the cigarette between her fingers, and her tongue moving restlessly behind her cheek "we got ice cream from the van and ate it right in front of him, then we danced around him like those savage Indians who ate people alive."

He looked at her expectantly as he finished his story, and started to feel legitimately uncomfortable as she didn't move, even as the cigarette started to burn too close to her fingers. Then she suddenly threw the cigarette on the ground.

"How old are you?" she said, calmly.

He was too startled with the question that he answered too quickly, there wasn't even time for the smirk to fade from his face "S-sixteen?"

"No, I mean your mental age" he was about to interrupt but she continued firmly " I mean, a fully grown sixteen years old male, won't find a story like the one you just ineloquently told at all funny!" he just stared at her, mouth slightly open "do you even understand what ineloquently means? God do you even understand anything?- Dudley, you are so damn stupid! Do you realize that?" she took a step closer to him, dangerously close, angry as she was "That Harry that you call filthy and weird is the most genuine person I met in this plastic neighborhood of yours, he is the most genuine person I met ever for the matter!" she took a deep breath and continued "Do you even know him? Or do you just hate him because your mummy and daddy told you to? Why do they even hate him! Why! Have you ever thought about this? Do you even think about anything at all?" she groaned "God you are so stupid- so damn stupid! THINK for god's sake- does any of this make any sense?" she nudged his temple violently, sending his head to the side "THINK use that brain of yours!"

He was so shocked that he just stared back, his mental gears creaking slowly as he was trying to absorb everything, the sudden rage, the words themselves, the physical assault, and on top all of this, the question. _Why!_

Nada covered her face with both her palms in frustration, deciding it is a lost, unnecessary battle, a battle that she didn't wake up today to fight on top of everything. She turned to leave but stopped when he finally spoke.

"I-I ask why, sometimes" he said, if anything defensively "I am not stupid."

She faced him with a relatively softer expression, "if you are sixteen, and you still see the world through your parents' eyes, then you are stupid. There's another whole wide world out there that you know nothing about, Harry is just the tip of the ice-burg" and with that she left.

The gears kept on moving, creaking but moving and slowly gaining momentum.

* * *

Procrastination that is the word. He was "procrastinating", Hermione should be proud that he remembered the word. Hermione would kill him if she knew that he'd been doing it again, procrastinating.

Harry sat on the swing, the thoughts in his head echoing its movement forward and backward.

If he understood correctly what he read in Dumbeldor's letter, if Dumbeldor meant what he said in this letter, then he was leaving tonight. He was probably leaving tonight. He told Nada nothing about it.

He just couldn't bring himself to tell her, because he himself dreaded leaving. When he recalls how they lied under the stars on her shawl, how she held his hand in reassurance, how she made him feel alive, he knew why he dreaded leaving. When he recalls her image that night in her nightgown on the roof, he knew why he dreaded leaving her.

That, and that ominous feeling that he had about leaving this time. A feeling of uneasiness like the feeling one gets when waking up in the middle of the night and sensing that something is not right, that there's something lurking in the folds of the darkness.

He kept moving idly with the swing, forward and backward, like a grandfather clock pendulum. Moving as time passed, as the clock ticked.

He didn't notice the group of teenagers who were approaching, snickering and laughing.

"Aren't you too old for swings Potter?"

Harry was harshly dragged from his daze by the one and only, Pierse Polkiss. The boy has shaved his head and gained bulky muscles that made him look like a cartoon sailor. The look on his face that was intended to make him look dangerous and intimidating somehow made him look more ridiculous. Harry eyed him slowly from head to toe, and snorted. He didn't mean it, he wasn't looking for trouble, and he certainly didn't want to aggravate the gang of teenagers but he couldn't help but laugh.

"Ehm, erm, sorry" Harry tried to cover up the laugh with an attempt of a civilized conversation "I just remembered something funny". He, not so discretely, eyed the ridiculous bandanas that the boy tied around his wrist, with a poorly hidden smirk on his face, sliming the possibility of getting out of the situation in one piece. Old habits die hard after all.

"Maybe you are not too old for swings potter, maybe you feel nostalgic for the good old days" as the boy cracked his knuckles, the bland retort was ooh'ed by the gang.

Harry just kept swinging idly, averting his eyes away. Not another fight if he can avoid it, he thought. He fought the urge to comment on the bandanas or their owner, and just kept swinging.

"You deaf! I am talking to you!"

Harry stood up and was about to leave when one of the boys, grabbed him from the hood of his sweatshirt practically dragging him closer to Polkiss, earning loud cheers and another wave of excited oohs from the rest of the gang. Harry snatched the hood awkwardly back from his grip, fixed his clothes and turned around to leave. In the past, he would stay, fry them with sarcastic comments, take what he had coming, scratch and bite and fight back, end up with a black eye and some nasty wounds, and a sense of pride that he caused as much damage. Not today however, not ever actually. Somehow he felt all too old for some fist fight with a bunch of bored teenagers.

"Aww, Baby Potter doesn't even have enough balls to fight back" with that, the other boys burst in to laughing, so Piers got too confident "maybe we should check if he have them at all." Before Harry could react, he grabbed him from the waist band of his jeans. Harry felt a surge of magic leaking from his fingertips, like a very mild electric current, he balled his fist, gathered the new force, and used it to punch his attacker right in the nose.

Harry looked from his fist to the boy's face not believing the amount of blood on both of them. The blow was too hard even for his expectations. A moment of brief shock and silence followed.

He didn't know how he reached that position on the ground, how dirt has found its way in to his mouth, whose hands were where. He was rained by kicks and punches from every possible direction. Some hands were yanking at his clothes, some hands were pulling his hair, and some were just busy with the punching. He tasted blood, but felt no significant pain, he'd feel later though, he thought vaguely.

* * *

Nada felt guilt peaking shyly in to her conscience, but she just firmly ignored it. _He had it coming_ , she thought, _he rightfully deserved it_. There was that small voice that told her that may be she was too aggressive, that she shouldn't have made her point physically. She squashed that little voice and mentally stomped on it. It was enough that he made her loose her last cigarette.

She hoped that she'd find Harry in the park though, for she didn't have the energy to walk all the way to the abandoned shop.

As she got closer, she found a group of teenagers approaching, or she was approaching them, it didn't matter. She added that to the list of things she couldn't care less about, together with the fact that one of them was bleeding profusely from his nose, it looked nasty actually that she almost turned her head to look, just out of sheer curiosity.

The park was completely empty. It is usually abandoned by that time of the day as children would be called for lunch and the sun gives up on them before they could ever return. He'd be sitting on one of the swings though, or on the bench near the see-saw. When she entered the park however, he was neither there or there. She let out a frustrated huff and was about to leave when she noticed a movement near the swings.

There was that moment when she saw but her mind didn't quite register what she saw. Then another moment when her mind registered what she saw, but her limbs wouldn't respond to it. the time between the moment her eyes where laid upon Harry curled on the ground, when she heard his groan, when she saw him trying to move again, and the moment when she hurried to his side, seemed to stretch over an eternity whereas it didn't exceed a couple of seconds.

"Oh God! Oh God! Harry!" She whispered frantically as if her voice would hurt him.

He just groaned in response, and tried to sit up.

She started to ramble in her mother language, as she helped him up, earning a pained chuckle from him.

"Zust- zust help me to the bench," he said breathlessly. His voice awkward as if he was talking with his mouth full. He was talking with his mouth full, Nada figured that out as he turned his head away from her side and spit blood.

"Sorry," He tried to look at her apologetically, she just tightened her grip on his forearm and shoulder as she helped him to the bench.

She sat him down but kept standing just staring at him as he threw his head backward and stretched his legs in front of him. She tried to assess the damage not so subtly, not that he'd really care anyway in that state. His clothes were dirty and his jeans torn at one knee, his face was not very visible from the way he sat, sent mostly in the shadows. His exposed neck however was sporting some faint scratches, and a scab from the side that extended from his jaw, a dry one though, it wasn't bleeding just red and inflamed. The knuckles of his right hand however didn't look as unharmed as the rest of him. She vaguely remembered the boy with the bloody nose, which explained that particular injury.

The lack of any external injury would have been relieving if he had not just spit blood in front of her, and somehow the fact that he didn't say anything while she scrutinized him was not at all reassuring.

"Are you alright?" She asked, not realizing how stupid the question sounded until it escaped her mouth.

He laughed, he looked at her and laughed. She did laugh too.

"I am splendid, thank you" he said, his voice hoarse and raspy. Then he turned his head to his side again and spit. "Sorry' bout that."

She grimaced "that's not good," she finally sat beside him "you need to go to the hospital."

"It's ok," he said trying to sit straighter "It's from my mouth- not inside- hurt my tongue."

She felt uncomfortable with what was supposed to be a note of reassurance. "So you think you broke anything?"

He had rested his head backwards again and closed his eyes, "No, don't think so." He flexed his hand in front of him "see? Good as new."

She weighted lecturing him about how it wasn't funny, but she knew that it would be in vain. "What happened?" She asked instead.

"Bad day," he said simply.

"And I thought I had a bad day," she said throwing her head backward like he did. Both of them kept staring to the sky through the branches of the tree above.

"Why? What happened?" He asked finally.

"Honestly?" She snorted turning her head to face him "you look like you have just escaped a battlefield and you are asking about my day?!"

"It's not a competition you know," he said still staring to the patterns of branches and sky "besides, I am naturally selfless and unconditionally kind."

She kicked his foot playfully "Shut up."

"Ow," he let out something between a cry and a chuckle.

He didn't see the guilty expression on her face "do you think you can stand up now?"

He sat up, a bit defensively "do I look that bad?"

She stood and nodded "yes, you certainly do" then started to help him up.

He accepted her help almost without any resistance. He went a bit stiff though when she snaked her arm around his waist. Noticing his discomfort she immediately withdrawn it, keeping only her grip on his arm for support.

They walked through privet drive as the sun was setting. He, with labored movements but no complaints and she, supporting him on his own terms. There silhouettes connected as if they were one entity, whereas in reality the only connection between their bodies was her loosened grip on his arm, a grip that was eventually reduced to a ghost of a touch as his steps gained momentum.

She stopped abruptly when they reached a white airy house, her house.

"What?" He asked breathlessly, somehow standing looked to tire him more than walking.

"We are there," she said not understanding his confusion. She started to move towards the house expecting him to walk with her but he didn't. "What's wrong?"

"I thought we are heading to the roof?" there was something akin a sense of betrayal in his voice.

"You won't be able to climb the ladder like this," she said patiently placating him, like she usually did with her father "and I don't think you'd be thrilled to go back to your aunt's in that state."

He took a step down the pavement and sat on the cold stone, obviously even standing was too much effort for him. "What if your father- is that ok with your father?"

"He's not home, and won't be before midnight- some embassy event or something," she extended her hand to help him up again and as an 'end of discussion' sign. "Come on Harry, we are both tired."

He looked at her from below for a moment, then he took her hand. He pushed himself up however with the other hand, not depending on her for support.

It was somehow awkward to be in her home, house to be precise. Homes don't feel that cold. It was weird, that he of all people, knew the difference between both. Perhaps because he was too familiar with the coldness, the rigidness and the discomfort of homelessness. Perhaps because he spent his short life like a bug searching for the light and the warmth of homes. That is how he was attracted to Hogwarts, that is how he was attracted to the Weasleys, because they emitted the warmth and light that homes emitted.

They did feel like home, but they were never his.

He looked around as she closed the door behind them, the hall was crisp and clean, with an empty coat hanger and a spotless mirror. The hall extended in a long rectangle that ended with a set of white stairs that twisted and turned above them, leading to the second floor. He followed Nada as she entered the living room, or what should have been. There was two wide white sofas, a love seat and two armchairs. Harry somehow felt uncomfortable to follow her in the room as he noticed the posh rug that graciously covered the wooden floor.

And somehow she looked uncomfortable too.

"Erm, why are you standing? Have a seat," she said nervously.

"I-I will get it dirty," he said gesturing to the sofa behind him "everything is just too white," he added trying to appear nonchalant.

"Then make it less white," she said still not sounding like herself "nobody sits here anyway to notice it."

Harry sat down, both for the lack of any other thing to do, or say for the matter, and because he was in too much pain to argue.

His back hurt, his shins hurt, his arms hurt, his head was throbbing, and all what he wanted to do is to curl on to that alarmingly white sofa and sleep. He couldn't do so of course, even if Nada wasn't sitting with her back that straight on the edge of the cushion next to him.

He cleared his throat, "Erm, nice house," he said out of the lack of things to say.

"You think so?" She replied, cynicism dripping from her words.

They both laughed.

"Come," she said standing up abruptly "Can you handle a couple of stairs?"

He could, and even if he couldn't he would, just to get away from that room.

The stairs were not as horrible as the idea of them but it was still a struggle, especially if he wanted to keep whatever dignity he had left intact in front of her. He didn't want to think about what she thought of him, seeing him beaten and bullied for the second time. Somehow it didn't bother him like it should. Maybe because he was too tired to think about it, maybe it is a side effect of floating above the living.

Maybe, and most probably, because he knew she won't think less of him. For some, mysterious reason, she wouldn't think less of him, he knew it, he didn't understand it but he knew it.

"It's a bit messy here but at least more comfortable," she said opening the plain white door, and his breath was caught in his throat when he realized that it lead to her bedroom.

He has never been to a girl's room before, even at Hogwarts the girls' dormitory is off limits. Which gave the whole concept of a girl's room a whole new level of mystery. he had heard his dorm mates talk about the wonders and wonders of girls' rooms, with girls' beds, and with girls' night clothes, and no Harry you shouldn't think about her night clothes, not after Seamus detailed description of the said garments, because no, just no.

The room he stepped stiffly in was nothing but a sheer disappointment to the boys in his dorm. No pink curtains, no lace bed covers, and definitely no furry rugs.

It was a spacious room, almost the size of his dorm at Hogwarts, and almost in the same color pallet. With lots of browns and deep reds. The wooden floor was covered with another posh rug like the one he was afraid to step on downstairs but this one seemed less intimidating with a pair of trainers and a sweatshirt discarded on it. The bed was huge however, compared to their beds at Hogwarts, a handmade quilt covered it that looked as if it was knitted by no one other than Mrs. Weasley.

Nada fussed tiding around muttering distracted apologies while he just stood there contemplating the details.

"..and please sit somewhere Harry," he heard her saying.

Nodding he just sat on the bed. The groan that escaped his lips however was enough to grab her attention. She stopped in the middle of the act of folding a t-shirt and looked at him. He sat there forearms rested on his knees, taking in and out his breaths slowly, in what she knew was meant to contain his pain.

She took a step towards him and kneeled in front of him to see his face, "I will get you something for the pain," she said gently touching his knee in what she thought would be a reassuring gesture. The flinch that she received in response however said otherwise.

She gently removed the torn fabric of his jeans to examine his knee, not that she would be able to know what to do with it, but she did it anyway. She looked from his bruised and bloodied knee back to him "I know that girls usually so the patching up in the movies, but mate I am clueless."

That cracked him, he laughed and she joined him with her boisterous giggles, fueling his laughter from her words to her giggles.

"I don't know if this should disappoint me or relief me," he said finally coughing for air.

She stood and walked to a door he didn't realize was there "then something for the pain," she walked in the adjacent room that harry realized it happened to be a bathroom, she came back with a small plastic container "just take two pills," she handed it to him "I will get you some water," she left for the door then hesitated for a moment as if in conflict to say something "erm, you can use the bathroom if you want, to-" she gestured around her body "you know, check yourself- if you are alright," she tucked a strand of her behind her ear "there's a bruise salve in the cabinet above the sink, with an orange label."

He nodded "Thank you."

Her hand lingered on the door knob for a moment when she finally moved "I'll get the water then," she said with a sigh and left.

He got up to tend to his own wounds as he always did.

His body was a mosaic of colors, and he didn't feel any better than he looked. The strong façade was slipping slowly but surely. All what he wanted to do is crawl in to a hole and disappear. He kept staring at his reflection in the mirror above the basin, merely for the lack of energy to do otherwise.

Then a knock on the door woke him from his daze "Harry? Is everything alright?" he heard Nada from the other side of the door, her voice worried "Do you need anything?"

"I am fine," his voice came raspy and distant after a moment of silence, "just give me a minute."

She didn't reply but he could still feel that she didn't move from her spot on the other side of the door.

"Harry?" She said again "I guess-it'd be better if I help you?" her voice was hesitant "you don't know where everything is- and, just let me at least bring you the salve, did you find it?"

If he was honest with himself, he'd admit that he was in pain, so he swallowed his ego and started to get dressed as fast as his state could allow to open the door.

She didn't stop to look at him, she just strode towards the cabinet and started rummaging through it. He just sat himself on the lid-closed toilet.

"I used this the day I fell on the pavement, it works very well and reduces the pain," she started applying the salve through the torn fabric of his jeans "do you mind if I cut it a bit? It is ruined anyway I guess."

He just nodded, not believing that it has only been a month since he helped her with a napkin full of ice for her scraped knees.

"I can' believe it's only been a month," she said absently dapping his knee with the salve "is the other knee hurt too?"

He nodded again.

She paused for a fraction of a second, seemingly at loss of what to do. She grabbed the scissors from the first aid kit and cut the fabric covering the other knee, repeating the same routine "that one stylish jeans you have now here," she said trying to ease the tension earning herself a soft chuckle from him.

He looked at her from where he sat as she was tending as much as she could to his wounds, taking every detail about her in, slowly and coldly realizing that he won't see her for at least nine months, which with a great possibility would start right the next day. He won't take those long walks with her, won't speak with her, won't listen to her voice, or watch her speak, won't see her bizarre assortments of outfits' combinations, and won't eat those cookies she bakes for him. He knew it before, theoretically, it wasn't some sort of a surprise. However, the realization brought a sense of loss that he didn't realize he could possibly feel again, after everything he lost before; the loss of that peace that she made him feel, that the world is not on hanging on the edge of a cliff, that he has that right to just be- normal. He swallowed the lump that unceremoniously formed in his throat.

"Anything else that need healing?" she asked him from her kneeling position, her eyes looking wider and if possible even more beautiful as she looked up at him.

"No," he said, his voice slightly above a whisper "nothing that you can help me with." He then noticed the frown that was formed on her face, so he added "just the bruises you know, that- the salve won't help with them."

She nodded, albeit her expression remained a bit doubtful "take the pills, they'll help- I brought you some water."

He wasn't very accustomed to Muggle medications, and the pills somehow made him drowsy; he doesn't know when his sitting position on her bed turned to lying then turned to curling on his side with his shoes missing. He doesn't even know when the bright white light of the sun that washed the room has turned into that deep orange, sending the Gryffindor hues of the room into a warmer shade if that was even possible.

But it was. It was possible, and the warmth seeped to his heart.

"How are you feeling now?" he felt her saying, her face nothing more than several inches away from his, and somehow he was alarmingly unfazed by the fact that she is that close, lying with him on the bed, her bed. Those damn pills indeed!

"Better," he mumbled, voice raspy and thick with sleep.

She knew somewhere at the back of her head that if her father came at that specific moment, all the aristocratic, diplomatic façade will evaporate and the eastern father jinni will be summoned from his long sleep. She didn't know why she secretly hoped for it, if it was the only way she'd get a reaction from him so be it, eastern temper and all.

She stuffed those thoughts in her mental closet, with other skeletons she got there, maybe she would contemplate them later. Right now however, all what she could think of was the boy with those green eyes that starred back at her. She never saw his face that close, that relaxed, and despite the newly acquired scabs and bruises she couldn't ignore the aura she felt radiating from his face, like something nice and kind and warm, something like milk and honey and her grandmother's garden. Raw kindness that even the ugly scar on his forehead couldn't conquer.

Almost instinctively, she reached out brushing his hair away from it, vaguely surprised that he didn't move or flinch away, he just stared back. So she gathered the courage to brush her fingertips over it, slowly but deliberately tracing the lightning bolt shape. It felt smooth under her fingers, not ragged or rough; however, it was unpleasant. She couldn't explain it, but she felt as if she touched something bad, and dirty and had this sudden urge to wipe her hand on her clothes, but she didn't.

As if he sensed it, he closed his eyes for a second and took her hand in his, not in a way that indicated that he was annoyed or angry, but rather protectively.

Raw kindness, she thought, that even the ugly scar on his forehead couldn't conquer.

"Ever been so tired?" he heard himself saying, feeling everything but too tired to react.

She didn't nod, merely frowned.

"Too tired that all what you want to do is just- disappear? Dissolve in the nothing-ness?" he said a hint of a smile on his face, a sarcastic smile, a tired boy's attempt not to release the lump in his throat in to something more messy and embarrassing.

She nodded, now gently brushing the hair on the side of his head, her pace not changing as the tips of her fingers brushed against the stiches there.

There was no hint of flirting in it, nor her signature playfulness, just a gentle touch that was if anything motherly. So, no he wasn't feeling uncomfortable and he wasn't the slightest guilty about how he leaned to her touch. So much of a big boy. Big tired boy with a lump in his throat, he corrected himself.

"I will be leaving for school soon," he stated, she didn't stop. Somehow he couldn't bring himself to telling her that that soon can be tonight, is probably tonight. He thought that if that is the case, and it is the case but he wouldn't admit it, he will pass by and say goodbye right before he leaves. What was the word? Procrastination, yes it was that.

"I'll miss you, you know," she said, something wistful in her voice.

 _Me too_ , he thought "well, you will have to go to your school too."

She sighed, "I will write you- just leave me the address though, and I will even leave lipstick signatures."

He couldn't help but chuckle at that, especially when he pictured the look on Ron's face if he found out that he received a letter with a lipstick imprint on it.

"Will it be scented?" he asked, faking a hopeful expression on his face.

She smiled at that, something genuine and beautiful and warm, like milk and honey and Christmas at Hogwarts, "in your dreams Potter," she said.

He took a mental note to ask Hermione how does the whole Muggle and Magical mail work, so that he would write to her. He took another mental note to ask Nada about her school address, and another note to ask her not brush his hair like that because it makes him sleepy. He took some other several vague notes like the fact that he should get up, go to his aunt's house, do stuff like just-in-case packing.

All were just vague mental notes, the only solid anchor he had to reality was her voice saying his name, before he succumbed himself to sleep. Those damned pills indeed!

* * *

The room was dark when he woke up again, this time with the headache of too much sleep, a mouth too dry, and a sharper realization of the where and why. Before he could even panic, he realized the reason why he woke up, the feeling of being watched, of having a silent breathing company. Then it slowly downed upon him, as he looked up the towering figure looming above him, his cloak shining in the moonlight, his beard standing stark and silver against the thick darkness of the room, his gaze piercing above his half-moon spectacles.

"You've been reckless this summer Harry" he said, eyeing Nada's sleeping form.

* * *

AN/ I know, it has been a year since I last updated. I am actually very grateful if you guys made it this far, but don't blame me, blame life and depression.

Anyway, i promised that I am not abandoning this story, and I won't. one chapter and an epilogue left.

Much Love xx


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